Fading Addiction
by PerfectPride
Summary: Cameron's POV. CameronCuddy pairing. Eating disorder content. Slow progressing relationship so if you're looking for fluff and happiness this isn't the type of fic you want to be reading. Contains lots of angst.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first House fic, so I'd appreciate feedback. Constructive criticism is welcome, pure flaming isn't. I've done my best to ensure there are no grammar errors, but if you notice any that I keep making then do let me know. **

**Also, I feel it's necessary to mention I'm from the UK, and so, there may be some words I've used that are spelt differently or those from the US/Canada are unfamiliar with. I apologise if this is the case, I've really tried to make sure this hasn't happened, but I don't know every little language difference. ****Disclaimer: Usual stuff; I don't own House MD or the characters. **

**Spoilers: There may be some minor ones but none that jump out at me if you've seen Season 1, 2 & 3. Some Cuddy stuff taken from 2 and 3, but that's about it. **

**Fading Addiction**

We all have our addictions.

What's important to remember is that those who hide them are the ones that are considered to have problems. Flaunt them, and chances are you'll be tolerated. Yes there will be whispers about you behind your back; maybe even comments to your face, but no one will really _do_ anything. The odd person may try and stir a little trouble for you, but they will never win. After all, if you're open about it, then is it really something to worry about? Surely not. Of course, it must be made clear that those who admit they have a problem, an addiction, and reveal it to others obviously need help. However, for them to do this, they must have hidden it at one stage and therefore, they are exceptions to the rule.

Am I making sense?

Let me try and explain myself a little better. The woman in her late forties who smokes a cigarette whilst sitting at the bus stop everyone morning; does she have an addiction? It's only one cigarette, therefore not a problem. No one stops to consider that maybe it's her fifth cigarette already that morning. That her wheezing is not just the sign of a mild chest infection, but an indicator of a more sinister problem such as lung cancer. She herself doesn't consider the implications of her actions, not bothering to think about the effects of passive smoking on people around her. Ultimately, that's the problem. Unless the habit in question has a blatant, obvious, and direct effect on the person in question; it isn't a problem. Not really. It's why crack heads are viewed with disgust, as they cheat, thieve and lie to score again, again, and again.

It's also why people get away with their addictions every goddamn day of their lives.

Thought they do not realise it, I have spent a great deal of time studying those around me whom I work with on a daily basis, discovering what it is that they're addicted to. Unlike Dr. House, I choose not to reveal my musings. After all; that's the game he plays. It seems logical to start with him. Vicodin. Everyone knows it's what he takes, but no one stops to consider the deeper problem. Sure; he's hooked on Vicodin. Why? He hates pain, this we all know. What everyone else doesn't know, or chooses to pretend doesn't exist, is that as well as the Vicodin, he's dependant upon the numbness it brings him, and not just for the physical pain. I have absolutely no idea what demons House has in his past, and I no longer wish to. That ship sailed a long time ago, and it's no longer a concern of mine. Not really, anyway.

Doctor Wilson, one of House's few allies has an even subtler addiction. In fact, if it wasn't for House's smart comments, I doubt even I would have figured it out. Helplessness. Specifically; his helpless dying cancer patients. Only the female ones as far as I know, but isn't that bad enough in itself? When someone is in need, Wilson can be counted on to fall utterly in love with them and make it all better. At least for the duration of the time he spends in bed with them. If they get better; then he moves on. If they don't; he's a failure, as a man and as an oncologist. Simple as.

Now for Chase. Robert Chase, my one time fuck buddy [though we haven't been there for a while and his habit. Sex. Chase loves sex, with who it doesn't matter, so long as it's a beautiful woman or he has his beer goggles on. I'm not sure where exactly I fit in, it's in neither category really, but then, I've always been the odd one out. Whilst he may have thought he was in love with me; he wasn't. It was the sex. Chase needs sex; he wants sex; and he loves sex. Somehow, I don't see him changing anytime soon. His addiction is one that society accepts to a certain extent, seeing him as a sort of loveable rouge character; a man who loves the ladies. So he doesn't have a problem at all. Silly me for saying so.

Moving onto Foreman, big, bad, tough guy Foreman. I must admit, he took me a while to work out. Not as long as Wilson, I'll give him that, but still; long enough. Foreman is all about success; hence his enthusiasm to reach the top of his career. In his mind reaching the top, becoming the best doctor there is, having talent far beyond the skills House effortlessly possesses and basically, becoming medicine's new God is what he lives for. It's why he saw no problem with screwing me over for the article I wrote. He took the credit because hey, he needs it. He _craves_ it. Bastard.

Let's not forget the Dean of Medicine herself; Dr Lisa Cuddy. She'd hate me for saying so, but hers is the most obvious of the lot. There's no hidden reasons as there are with House and his pills, but rather, something which she flaunts at every available opportunity. Power. Control. Namely over her employees, but I'm guessing over everyone she thinks she can get away with barking orders at. If I'm honest, it is this one that annoys me the most. What right does she have to make those around her feel so damn stupid for getting it wrong sometimes? It's easy enough for her, cooped up in her cosy little office, signing paperwork and letting the rest of us make life or death decisions. She only argues with them half the time to make herself feel a little better, think that she is making a difference. It's beyond pathetic, it really is, but the less said about her, the better. Really.

Whilst all these people are so very different, they all have one thing in common. What they do effects those around them, and always will. House lets his Vicodin make tough decisions for him. Wilson tears apart the cancer survivors who believe he is their hero; for saving their life and for fucking them. Chase is a heart breaker. Foreman steps on anyone he things is going to hinder his chances of reaching the top. Cuddy controls staff, patients, and probably her family and friends. If she has any left that like her, that is.

Don't worry; I'm getting to the point. You're probably thinking that I'm some jumped up hateful person who believes the rule doesn't apply to her.

I'm not.

The difference is; my 'problem' doesn't hurt anyone but me. It destroys me, inside and out, but that's about the extent of it's damage. How do I know this? Because as House and co. believe, my urge is not to fix those who are broken. That's something I do to detract attention from the real thing, as well as trying to be a positive influence on people's lives. No. I, Allison Cameron, have a much more simple need.

Starvation.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N- I appreciate the feedback guys. :-)

**Fading Addiction Part Two**

I'm not anorexic. Anorexia is an illness, a real problem. What I have is something entirely different. Whilst you may believe that deliberate starvation and anorexia are essentially the same thing, I maintain they are not. For one, I realise that what I am doing is far beyond the norm, and that I'm merely in denial, refusing to face that there is something wrong with my brain. There's no point in arguing with this, I have long since given up trying to justify my actions unless I am confronted and forced to. For the most part, so long as I manage to cover my tracks and make sure that I don't take things a step too far; arguments are never necessary.

At least, they weren't until this morning.

The day had started like any other. I'd woken up fairly early, gone for my usual morning jog, pumped myself full of black coffee and arrived at work a few minutes before my shift was due to start. There was no warning, no sign of what was about to happen. In fact, if you'd asked me to take a bet, I would have given fantastic odds that today, Monday, was going to be the one day when I had nothing to worry about at all. I felt awake. Alert. Ready to take on any awkward patient that came my way, deal with House's sarcasm and face the wrath of Cuddy for any unapproved decisions I made.

It happened in the clinic. One minute I was standing there chatting casually with Wilson about an upcoming seminar, and the next thing I knew I was lying on a bed in one of the examination rooms. I can honestly say that I have no recollection of what happened, but Wilson was kind enough to fill me in once I was fully aware of my surroundings. Apparently, I'd stumbled backwards, my knees crumpling beneath me and had Wilson not had excellent reaction skills, I would have fallen to the floor. As it was he managed to catch me in his arms, hauling me up and carrying me into an exam room. I'd been out for a few minutes at the most, he said, and so shouldn't worry. I was overworked, overtired, and needed a good few days rest. He didn't even consider lack of food as a reason, and for this I was glad. Of course, I knew the real reason was lack of nutrients, I'd outdone myself that weekend before, choosing only to eat a few leaves of lettuce.

For obvious reasons, I kept my mouth shut.

At this point in time, House entered the room, closely followed by Dr. Cuddy. "Cameron!" He all but shouted. "I hear from Cuddy that you've been getting a little closer than usual with Wilson here."

Cuddy was there? Oh shit; just what I need. Her thinking I'm some sort of weakling who can't deal with the pressure of a career in medicine.

"Excuse me?" I muttered softly, more softly than I'd intended to speak.

"Did Wilson not just take you in his arms and lay you gently upon this bed here?" He gave the bed two sharp taps with his cane.

I groaned, not mustering up the energy to think of a smart reply. The coffee this morning had evidently not made an impact on me; suddenly I felt more exhausted than ever. The previous good feelings of alertness had rapidly disappeared.

"You know Cuddy, I think we should give the happy couple some privacy." House continued.

"House; shut up." Cuddy snapped at him, before turning to face me. "How are you feeling Cameron?"

Like she cared. Still, I feigned a smile. "Not too bad." All I wanted was to get up and out of this horrible horrible mess I'd managed to get myself into.

She frowned. "All the same… maybe we should run some blood tests just to be sure?"

Blood tests. Fuck. They couldn't do blood tests; they just couldn't. It'd be painfully obvious that there was a problem then, and that was something I couldn't risk happening.

Coming up with a quick cover story I replied, "Oh there's no need." When all three of them looked puzzled, I explained, "I already saw my GP and ordered some. I've been feeling under the weather lately."

Seemingly satisfied with this explanation, Cuddy and Wilson nodded. House stared at me, saying nothing, but making it clear he knew that the words that had come out of my mouth were utter trash.

"You really shouldn't have come in if you weren't up to working." Cuddy stated, in my opinion, rather harshly.

Through gritted teeth, defensively I replied, "I felt fine this morning."

"Obviously not fine enough to get you through the whole day." She retorted sarcastically.

Just where did she get off making me feel worse than I already did? It wasn't bad enough that I'd humiliated myself by collapsing in front of several patients and members of staff, she had to make me feel like it was all through fault of my own. It wasn't. I'd been _careful. _I did everything in my power to make sure that I didn't pass out. Drinking coffee, getting enough sleep, learning to recognise the warning signs. It seemed I would have to try even harder.

Only when Cuddy cleared her throat, indicating she was about to speak again was I detracted from my musings and brought back to real life conversation. Cuddy instructed, "Well, take the rest of the day off. You're no good to the hospital if you can't even remain conscious." Her face remained impassive. She hastily left the room, Wilson retreating after her. House remained.

"You lied." He stated.

"No; I didn't." I said stubbornly, refusing to admit it. After all, if I didn't admit it, then where was the proof?

"Why deny it Cameron? You know I'm always right." He scoffed.

"Not this time!" Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I started to get up, taking it slowly, one step at a time.

House remained silent for a few moments, almost as though the cogs in his brain were working overtime and he wished to give them his full focus. Unfortunately, I knew he was coming up with a theory as to why I would refuse blood tests and lie to cover up the fact that I didn't want any.

Eventually he spoke. "You know," He walked towards me, stopping a foot or so away from me, balancing on his cane. "If you ate a sandwich or two once in a while you might not feel so crappy all the time."

And with that he turned on his heel and walked out of the examination room, leaving me staring after him; open mouthed.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N- Guys, thank you so much for the feedback. I hope you continue to enjoy it. :-) Just to let you know, the line signals a different "scene" in the story, but it's still the same part.**

**Fading Addiction- Part Three**

When I'd had a few hours to think about it and come to terms with the fact that House quite possibly knew about my eating habits, I realised I should have fully expected it. House knows everything; it's as simple as that. There was never really a question of him not working out what the problem was; even if it had taken him a while. The very fact that I was woozy and in the middle of a dizzy spell meant that I was prevented from immediately realising this, and perhaps carrying out some sort of damage limitation. If I'd been able to think straight I could have cracked a joke about overdoing it on the exercise front and perhaps needing to start eating a hearty breakfast. As it was I didn't think up these comments until it was far too late; it would look ridiculous if I tried to work them into a conversation any time soon.

That night for the first time in months, I skipped my usual exercise routine. I didn't use any of my gym equipment that I'd bought, only recently. Basically, I just wanted to use it as and when I wanted to without worrying about others around me watching and judging me. As far as I was concerned, it was well worth the several thousand dollars I'd spent making sure it was top of the range gear I was buying. Shock horror, I even managed to eat a watery salad; no dressing of course.

I shouldn't have done that.

See, the moment I start eating, I can't stop. It's as if my brain is programmed to say, "Hey, just get fat!" Which is exactly why I try to avoid eating altogether. Before I could stop myself, I was out of my apartment and getting into my car, starting the ignition. Within ten minutes I'd found myself in a food store car park, staring ahead of me, mouth dry, heart racing. "It'll be ok." I told myself. "I'll just pick up a _few_ healthy snacks and that's it. I can _do_ this." Taking one last deep breath, I left the car, remembering to switch the alarm on before I left. Shakily, I walked to the entrance, stopping to pick up a trolley on my way. This comforted me somehow, giving me something to lean on. House has his cane, I have my trolley. I tried not to laugh at this comparison, realising I'll stick out as the stupid fat girl who people think is showing joy at entering a food store.

As I began to walk from aisle to aisle, I felt as if all eyes were on me. Awkwardly, I started to examine the back of various different foods, checking carb, fat, sugar and calorie content. Almost everything got placed back on the shelves. The foods I allowed myself were extremely limited, and items such as carrots, lettuce, a few apples. I stocked up on coffee, diet sodas, and pretty much anything that looked completely safe.

I was just debating whether or not to buy myself fat free muffins as a treat, when I heard a voice from behind me. "Dr. Cameron." Spinning around, I found myself face to face with a casually dressed Cuddy, wearing a pair of jeans and a v-neck sweater and looking far more relaxed than she ever did at the hospital.

"Dr. Cuddy." I knew I sounded surprised, maybe even a little panicked. After all, of everyone I could possibly have bumped into, it had to be her. Just to clarify, bumping into her was definitely not a good thing.

"I didn't realise you shopped here." She stated, obviously just making polite conversation.

"Yeah…" I replied, frowning as I noticed her eyes sweep over the contents of my trolley. I didn't even want to _know _what she was thinking. Automatically, I scanned hers. It looked pretty normal; healthy but with a few 'naughty' foods as well, such as cupcakes. Funny, I didn't imagine Cuddy eating cupcakes. For some reason I was overcome with an overwhelming urge to laugh again, and it was only upon noticing the expression on her face that this feeling went away. If there ever was a bad enough time to get high from hunger pains, then this was it.

Cuddy had obviously realised I'd examined her trolley with some detail, and I dreaded to think how long I'd been staring. It was with a rather cautious voice that she said, "You know, I think you could do with getting some real food, especially after what happened this morning."

A wave of anger passed over me, and it was without hesitation that I said sharply, "You know, I think you could do with minding your own business."

Surprisingly, she didn't berate me. Instead, she gave me a pitying look and said softly, "Take care of yourself Allison." Before slowly walking away.

I never did get those muffins.

* * *

"_Take care of yourself Allison." _What the fuck was that all about? Since arriving home all I'd done was replay the sentence in my head over and over again until it were almost as though Cuddy was standing right next to me. By rights the anger should have surpassed by now; but instead it seemed to be increasing by the minute, for reasons which I could only surmise. One, she was telling me what to do. This she did on a daily basis, but that was work related. Taking care of myself was most definitely not work related advice, but her being an interfering cow. Two, she used my first name. No one from work called me Allison, not even Chase when he was screwing me on an almost daily basis. And lastly, that patronising tone of hers that she insisted on using whenever she spoke to me… Jesus. She quite possibly had to be the most annoying boss ever. Even more so than House, and that was saying something. 

Don't get me wrong, I don't like arguing with her more often than having a conversation with her; but we clash. I'd like to say it's because we're far too alike, but really, it's the opposite. Cuddy's [here comes the long list intelligent, independent, strong-willed, caring and beautiful. Me? I'm whiny, over emotional, ugly and fat. FAT. And really, that's the entire issue here. The person I am is the person I despise. Whether or not others sense it I don't know, but I'm guessing they do. It's why they hate me, right? If I was everything that Cuddy is then I'd like myself. In turn, people would like me. Logical really; when you think about it. I'd just have to work harder on not being so damn huge. If I could just make myself fade into nothingness, then I wouldn't be noticed anymore. No one would hate me. I'd like to say that being thin would solve all my problems, that they'd like me, but there's still the million and one other personality traits to deal with. Being thin can't solve everything. It can make me happy, but it can't make me loved. Not like _her_.

I'd give anything to be Cuddy.

Hell, I'd settle just for being anyone but me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for all the feedback guys! **

**Fading Addiction- Part Four**

In work the next day, I felt a little better. The previous night I'd been so worked up after bumping into Cuddy that I'd lost my appetite and eaten none of the healthy snacks I'd bought. However, that morning I'd drank two cups of coffee before leaving the apartment and straight after my morning jog, even allowing myself an apple for energy. It was best if I ate something at the start of the day to get myself through work. That way, if later on I started feeling ill, I'd be within the comforts of my own home and able to pass out in peace. At least, that was the plan. I prayed nothing would go drastically wrong so soon after I'd fainted the day before. The last thing I needed was anymore attention drawn to me; I'd stake my monthly salary on Cuddy informing House of our chance meeting in the food store the previous evening.

As far as I knew; we didn't yet have a patient. This only served to make things worse, as all day would be spent sitting around doing absolutely nothing of use. House of course would use the opportunity to catch up on the latest episode of his favourite soap, play on his Gameboy and perhaps annoy Cuddy with inappropriate comments. Chase would lounge around, maybe take a little time to flirt with the nurses, and Foreman would read up on the latest medical trials and any advances that had been made within his field of neurology.

Me?

I'd think about food.

That sounds a little strange, coming from someone who hates to eat, but it's true. If there was no work to do or nothing to concentrate on, then I would sit there consumed by thoughts of what it would be like to eat a plate of fries, taking my time over them, savouring the taste. For some reason, fries were what I craved the most, other than bananas. There was some serious irony in the fact that that the one fruit I craved to no end was the one that contained the most fat as opposed to say, a watermelon. I was still considering the injustice of this when House traipsed into the room, followed by Foreman, Chase, and Cuddy. Why was Cuddy here?

"Ok kids… do what you usually do on a day when we have no patient." House instructed. When we all continued to sit there blankly, he added, "Just to clarify; Chase, go find tonight's date; or are you waiting around to kiss Cuddy's ass? Foreman my bro… read up on that brain stuff you're into." Cuddy rolled her eyes at this, watching as House turned to me. "Cameron; go order yourself a Happy Meal."

"Dr. House!" Cuddy raised her voice to him, evidently not appreciating his orders.

"What? Hey, you were the one that said the girl needed to eat a decent meal!" House revealed, as Cuddy cringed, evidently wishing she'd chosen anyone but House to say this to.

Before I could speak, she turned to me. "Dr. Cameron, it wasn't like... like…" Her voice trailed off.

"Wasn't like _what_, Dr. Cuddy?" I hissed, shooting daggers at her.

Foreman started, "You know Chase, I think now would be a good time to…"

"Lost for words? Not at all like you!" I raised my voice, watching as out of the corner of my eye, Foreman and Chase snuck out of the room.

Cuddy tried to placate me. "Cameron if you would just calm down then…"

"Calm down?" I interrupted her for the second time. "Give me one good reason why I should calm down?!"

Seeming to gather herself, Cuddy replied, in a firm tone of voice, "Because I'm your boss Dr. Cameron and I'm telling you to!"

"You know, that's a pretty good reason." House directed at me.

"Shut up!" I yelled, simultaneously with Cuddy. However, far from uniting us, it only served to increase my anger, and by the looks of the expression on her face; hers too.

She had passed the point of fury; that much I could tell when she spoke in a dangerously quiet voice to me. "My office. Now."

Realising my job was at risk if I didn't do as ordered, I strode out of the room, barely listening as she berated House for his sarcastic comments, and no doubt, for revealing what she'd said in the first place. Angrily, I threw open the door to her office; not caring that various members of staff were probably staring at me. Slamming it behind me, I strolled back and forth across the office, waiting for the imminent arrival of Cuddy. Chances were she would get angrier as time moved on, so the sooner she arrived; the better. At least then the lecture on respect would be over and done with.

Taking a seat in the chair opposite her desk, I waited impatiently for her. I just wanted this _over_ with for God's sake. Didn't she _get_ that?

"Dr. Cameron?"

It was then I noticed that she was standing in front of me. By the expression she was wearing, I guessed she'd been trying to catch my attention for a while. Composing myself I uttered, "Yes?"

"Would you come and sit here please?" She gestured towards the couch. Oh great, she was going to do the "concerned" thing. Concern sucked even more than rage. Right then, I'd have given anything for her to yell some more, but instead she was giving me a look that screamed sympathy. Urgh. Still, I did as she asked, avoiding facing her directly, and scooting further away from her as she sat down next to me.

She spoke almost straight away. "I'd like to apologise."

Hmm. This I was not expecting. "Excuse me?" I was sure I'd heard her wrong.

"I should never have said what I did to House; I realise that now." She declared. "I should have said it to you; and phrased it in a way that was inoffensive."

Against my better judgement, I met her eyes. "So you're sorry for saying it to House, but not sorry for saying it in the first place?" I questioned, making sure I'd understood her.

She nodded.

"You know, I think I'd prefer it if you were sorry for saying it at all." I disclosed.

"And I think I'd prefer it if you didn't speak to me the way you did less than five minutes ago, but I'm willing to forget about that when there are so obviously more important things that we need to discuss." She said, not so harshly. Wow. Who'd have thought Cuddy could do nice so well; especially to me?

If she wanted an apology she wasn't getting it. I was still far too angry for that. Defiantly I replied, "I won't say sorry. You had no right to say what you did and you can't blame me for being angry with you."

She shrugged nonchalantly "Fine; don't apologise. I don't much care about that at the moment anyway. What I do care about is that you've lost so much weight lately; it's probably why you passed out yesterday. It took me a while to work out; but that's the only explanation I can think of. At first I thought you were just under the weather, dealing with stress or something similar that meant you'd become thinner, but it's not that, is it?" When I stayed silent she added, "Think about the state of your health."

"My health is fine." I snapped.

"No, _Allison._"Damn her for using my first name. "It's not."

Rolling my eyes, I made to get up and leave. Quick to notice this, Cuddy grabbed my arm and pulled me back down, preventing me from making a hasty exit before things got even more awkward.

"You know, _Lisa_," Two could play at her game. "What you just did could be construed as assault in the eyes of the law."

Something in her expression changed, and told me that I'd crossed the line. "Take me to court then." She hissed. "And I'll have you hospitalized for turning yourself into a goddamn skeleton!"

Ouch. Ok; that hurt. Yes I'd rather be a skeleton than a fat pig but… that wasn't what this was about. This was about her accusing me of being sick. I wasn't.

"Allison," Now she was using a soft voice, trying a different tactic. "Surely you can see that not eating is… is killing you. In the past few months you've gone from being skinny to… well, to emaciated. You can barely stand up, let alone walk in a straight line. Your eyes are hazy, you're fainting. What is it going to take to make you realise that you need to eat?" I remained silent, not knowing what to say. Eventually she continued, "Therapy? Is that what you need? Because I know some brilliant doctors, they…"

"No!" I interrupted. "I'm ok, I'm perfectly ok!"

"No you're not." She pressed on. "You're anorexic. And the sooner you realise that, the sooner you can start to get better. I'm not saying this because I'm out to get you like you think I am. I'm saying it because I care, because I'm concerned about you."

"This conversation is over." I stated, getting up. This time she didn't try to prevent me. "I'm not anorexic, I don't need a therapist, and most of all; I don't need your fucking concern!" As I flew from the office, I expected her to come after me. In a strange way, I even wanted her to, but now wasn't the time to figure out the irrationality of this.

The point is; she didn't.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N- I realise that the relationship between Cameron and Cuddy is progressing slowly, but there is a reason for this. There aren't many people who immediately jump into a relationship (unless they're on a tv show), hehe and if they suffer with anorexia then it's likely (but not always the case) that they will suffer from intimacy issues. I'm not proclaiming to know everything about eating disorders but trust me when I say I understand them extremely well. There is no exact routine that has to be followed by an anoretic, each have their own tendencies, their own methods. Cameron's suffering is just one of thousands of ways. So I hope that clears some stuff up for you guys. **

**Mayuko-Chan and Slayergirlkal- thanks for the feedback. Janewaygirl, glad you like even if you aren't into Cam/Cuddy, and Kyry, thanks for noticing the grammar errors, I do my best to get rid of them but obviously I'm not perfect. Am still oblivious to them so hopefully they're not awful mistakes, hehe. :-)**

**Another slight warning for this part.**

**Fading Addiction Part Five**

With no patients to see, Chase and Foreman out for lunch (funnily enough I didn't want to join them) House annoying Wilson and Cuddy having finally left me alone, I intended to take a nap on the couch in the diagnostics room. Sleep was the best way to pass time when there was nothing to do, and I knew that it'd probably make me feel a lot better. At the very least it would give me enough energy to be able to walk to my car when the end of shift came. As it was, it took far too long to drift off, and when I did, it was a restless disturbed sleep. In my head I kept thinking about the confrontation with Cuddy, not to mention the previous evening when I'd bumped into her.

It must have been the fifth or sixth time I'd begun to play out our meeting in the food store, when I felt a sharp pain in my left arm. Flinching, I reached across with my right arm intending to rub the spot where it was stinging, when I felt something cool and metal digging into my skin. Quick as a flash I opened my eyes, gasping when I saw House kneeling next to me, syringe in hand, collecting blood from my arm.

Wrenching myself away from him I said manically, "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"You did go to medical school; didn't you? I'm taking your blood, Dr. Cameron." He informed me.

"No. No, you can't do that. You need my consent." I hissed.

"Like you bothered to get mine when you attempted this same little stunt on me. Except you used your tongue to distract me rather than waiting until I was taking a nap, of course." He retaliated.

"I thought you were dying!" I defended myself.

"Hey, I'm using the same argument here." He shrugged his shoulders, standing up, still with the syringe in hand. "Except; I wasn't really dying. You on the other hand; are."

Frowning, incredulous, I asked, "How exactly am I dying?"

"Well, the blood test will reveal more of course; tell me exactly what deficiencies you have, but there's always the chance of, you know, heart failure before I get the results back. You're already brachycardic; I checked your pulse too."

"I was sleeping!" I retorted. "It was obviously going to be slower!"

"Not that slow." He stated, before limping towards the door. "I'll let you know the results when they're back. Feel free to carry on napping."

Numbly, I turned on my side, wondering how on earth I was going to work my way out of this one. This could _not_ be happening.

* * *

Nothing good could come of House examining a vial of my blood. He'd only managed to get one sample as far as I knew, which meant he'd be limited in the things he could test me for, but he could still find out more than enough with that. Briefly I'd considered switching the vial with someone else's, before coming to a realisation. I'd have to find a perfectly healthy sample that belonged to a patient, which was actually kind of hard considering the fact that most people came to hospital because they were actually sick, and there was no way of distinguishing the hypochondriacs from the rest. Unless you were House of course. In addition to this, I'd need to find the place he'd stored my sample. Chances were; he'd keep it on him until the time came when he actually tested it. Considering that he'd probably tested it straight away; it was far too late to even attempt this idea. 

What I worried most about was that he'd have cold hard evidence on that slim sheet of paper telling him that I wasn't as healthy as I proclaimed to be. Then he'd have the power. The last thing I needed was for him to collaborate with Cuddy and push me into therapy sessions that quite honestly, I just didn't need. If I were truthful with myself, I'd rather resign than have to endure hour after hour of torture as some pathetic excuse for a shrink asked me if anorexia ran in my family, my mother had issues with food or daddy touched me where he shouldn't have. For the record, none of these were true and so, therapy was not going to help. Besides, for therapy to work; there had to be an issue. A problem.

There wasn't.

What was a problem was House's sudden interest in me. It did make me wonder if he had perhaps developed feelings for me over time; that Stacy was finally out of his head. However, if this were true, then did he really think he'd win me by being a royal pain in the ass? As it was I was no longer interested in him, but if he thought that he'd "get the girl" so to speak by hovering around her and hinting that she had an eating disorder twenty four seven, then he was sadly mistake. As for Cuddy's involvement, well I have no idea what that's all about. It's entirely possible that the fact she's never really liked me means she wants rid, and shoving me in an ED clinic is the easiest way she can think of handling it. No one wants to be treated by a doctor who is sicker than they are, and so, there would be no job for me at Princeton Plainsborough Teaching Hospital.

Throwing my keys onto the kitchen surface ahead of me, I was glad to be home; not least because I could finally carry out my exercise routine as opposed to being bored out of my brains in the hospital. With haste, I changed into a vest top and pair of shorts, and started by doing a hundred press-ups. Not a lot, you might think, but allow me to explain. Rather than do the same exercise for a ridiculous amount of time, and becoming tedious and bored, it's better to spend a short, sharp time on each. There is even an argument that this raises the metabolism even further. Whether true or not I'm unsure; there are contradicting studies, but it's what I choose to believe. Moving on from the press-ups I change to sit-ups, then the dumbbells, then the exercise bike and the treadmill, before repeating this routine five times.

By the end of it; I am exhausted. Not only physically; but emotionally. For this reason, it takes all the willpower I have to force my feet towards the bedroom, where with stars in front of my eyes, I finally pass out.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N- Don't worry- I won't be leaving this fic hanging. I'm one of those freakishly annoying people who can't leave stuff half finished. Warning as always, see first part for details. Also, thank you for the feedback, it's really lovely to read!

**Fading Addiction Part Six**

Wednesday and Thursday pass by in much the same way that Tuesday does. There is no word from House on the tests. I'm now wondering if he even carried out them out, though this only serves to make me feel worse. Maybe he's lulling me into a false sense of security before he presents me with the results? I don't know. All I know is that I'm constantly on edge, waiting for something to happen, not quite having the guts to mention it. Even Cuddy has kept quiet, instead deigning to blank me and act as though I don't exist when she passes me in the corridors. However, far from preferring this, it just makes me angry. If I'm entirely honest, even hurts a little. If she was so damn concerned, then why did she give up at the first sign of hostility from me? It's a sad fact, but probably, because she _does_ hate me. The question is; why do I care? Why?

I have no answers, and so it's best if I just put it out of my mind.

As I enter the diagnostics room, House looks up. "Dr Cameron! You're wanted." He said by way of a "Good morning".

"Excuse me?" I frowned.

"Cuddy wants you in her office." When I give him a blank stare he continued, "Oh don't go worrying your pretty little head; I don't think she's looking for illicit sex on the desk with you; but be sure to let me know if she is!"

Rolling my eyes, I left the room. Going to see Lisa Cuddy first thing in the morning was going to be hell. Not only would she be cranky from clearing up whatever mess House had caused the day before, but she was at her busiest. As I neared her office door, I peeked in. The blinds to the actual room were shut, but as the doors were slightly open, it was still possible to see her sitting at her desk. As I'd expected, she was staring down at some papers on the desk in front of her, evidently trying to make sense of them. Probably, it was some sort of report that House had managed to screw up. Taking one final breath, I knocked sharply on the door, ensuring that my face was unreadable. If I couldn't work her out, then I'd make damn sure it was just as hard for her to figure out me.

She gestured for me to enter, getting up from her seat as she did so. When she moved towards the couch I immediately realised that this was going to be another informal chat, and inwardly I sighed, before taking a seat next to her. The only word I would use to describe how she looked was apprehensive. I didn't have the foggiest idea why, but I was pretty certain that I was about to find out.

"I suppose you're wondering why you're here." She said, stating the obvious.

The last thing I wanted to do was show her just how curious I was, so I said casually, "You could say that."

She sighed. "I want you to know that House did this entirely off his own back; I had no idea."

Now I was completely confused. "I'm sorry Dr. Cuddy but I really have no idea what you're talking about."

She closed her eyes, bowing her head. "The blood that House took from you when you were asleep. He told me what he'd done straight after; well, I practically had to force it out of him when he made a smart comment about you sleeping on the job. The point I'm trying to make is that when the results came back; I made House show me."

No longer confused, but not entirely sure as to her reasons for doing that I asked, "Why?"

"Because I figured you'd rather I talked to you about them than House." She said simply.

"Well you were wrong!" I exclaimed. "House may have wound me up but… this has nothing to do with you! For God's sake, you're the Dean of Medicine; do you not have better things to do with your time?!"

Surprisingly she replied, "Yes; actually! But funnily enough I care about you enough not to let you completely destroy not only your career but yourself. And if working overtime to finish what paperwork I should be completing right now means that you listen and take onboard what I'm saying, then it'll be worth it."

Trying not to get too worked up, I tried to speak calmly. "Dr. Cuddy, I appreciate what you're trying to do. But with all due respect, my health, my weight, my appearance… they aren't your concern. Or at least, they shouldn't be."

She nodded. "You're right. But I can't help caring Cameron. Sorry, but that's not the way I work." She paused briefly. "I want you to listen to what the results show. And then if you still feel the same way, you still insist you're ok; I'll leave you alone. I promise."

I returned the nod, seeing this as a fair deal. "Ok."

Reaching across to the coffee table, Cuddy picked up a sheet that clearly had my results printed upon it. "You're lacking in just about every vitamin and nutrient going." Her voice was shaking. "My main concerns are your sodium and potassium deficiencies. My guess is that the low sodium means you have low blood pressure, but obviously that would have to be checked to make sure that's the case. It also probably explains why you're so irritable."

"I'm not irritable." I said stubbornly.

"You're not the same Cameron you used to be." She said quietly. Then, raising her voice she continued, "The low potassium worries me even more. You're at risk of numerous illnesses, not to mention, more worryingly; cardiac arrest. You're also anaemic; severely so. It's no wonder you passed out the other day. Furthermore, you're deficient in calcium which means there's a high chance of osteoporosis." She paused briefly. "I know you're a doctor and you know what the results mean already; but I want it to be clear that what you're doing is nothing short of destroying yourself." She stopped talking and looked up, seemingly waiting for me to speak.

"What do you want me to say?" I asked. What was there to say?

"I want you to say you need help." Cuddy whispered.

"I don't." I told her defiantly. "I'm not anorexic."

She placed a hand upon my arm, causing me to gasp a little from the shock of it. "Stop lying. Not only to me, but to yourself as well. I'm pretty sure that if I weighed you your BMI would be under 17.5. As for the other indicators and factors on the required criteria; I'm guessing you have those too. You don't have to admit it, because I already know I'm right." She squeezed gently, and I felt a tingle somewhere from deep within me. It had been so long since someone touched me with affection that I'd forgotten what it felt like. I stared at her hand, suddenly wishing that she wouldn't just touch me, but hold me too. Take away the pain for just a few seconds.

Then, it was gone. She moved away from me slightly, and looking into her eyes, for the first time I could see that they were glistening. For me?

Who else?

"I'm going to ask you one last question Cameron. And your answer depends on whether I take a step back and walk away from this entire situation, or stay and help you get through this." She took a deep breath. "Are you ok?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't. For the first time, realising that I couldn't bring myself to lie to her, I felt hot tears prick at my eyes. The last thing I wanted was for her to see me breakdown, and so, springing up from the couch, I turned my back on her, moving towards the door before she could stop me. For the second time that week I planned on making a hasty exit from her office, and so, the moment I was out the door, I ran like hell.

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	7. Chapter 7

**A/N- I have more here which thank goodness, I checked over a few days ago before the hangover! Had a rather heavy night yesterday celebrating my birthday with my flatmates/friends, but am leaving you guys with this part before I go spend the weekend with my family. :-)**

**Warning, this part is extremely… "triggering" is the only way I could think of describing it. So yeah, please be careful, I don't want to be responsible for screwing with anyone's recovery.**

**The reviews are rocking... love them! Mayuko-Chan, hope the mistakes I've made with grammar aren't too off putting. I'm not being lazy; they're genuine mistakes I don't realise I'm making, hehe.**

**Fading Addiction Part Seven**

The moment I left the office I knew that there was absolutely no way that I would be able to go back to working my shift. Entering the diagnostics department and pretending that nothing had happened was just not an option. Period. It was due to this that I found myself driving aimlessly in my car, tears streaked down my face and quite honestly, liable to crash the car unless I stopped and calmed down. Of course, that was what I told myself when I pulled into the car park of the very same food store in which I'd bumped into Cuddy. That was what I maintained when I got out "just for some air".

Even when I entered and began picking up a variety of junk food, I still denied to myself what I was about to do.

Bingeing was a sign of weakness; I knew that. On the other hand, there were times when I could no longer control myself, when I had this damning, overwhelming urge to eat. Into the trolley went biscuits, chocolate, packets of sugar, chips, bread, ice cream, pizza. I flew around the aisles like some sort of madwoman, needing the food. Not wanting; needing. No longer did I care that people were probably staring at me, wondering how someone so ugly, so fat, could continue to eat when they were nothing but a huge mess. The only thing I could think about was eating.

Queuing to pay for the food was a nightmare. Time seemed to go slower than usual, every second becoming a minute, every minute becoming an hour. Why couldn't they just _hurry_ up? Couldn't they see I _had_ to get out of here? Eventually, it was my turn to pay. Hurriedly I threw everything into carrier bags, not bothering to make sure I didn't damage anything. So desperate was I to get home, that I didn't even bother waiting for change, telling the cashier to keep it. She smiled, thanking me profusely. Well, what were twenty dollars to me? She certainly needed it more than I did. Rapidly, I left the store, running to the car and throwing the bags in the back. It was journeying home that I came to the realisation I was no longer upset by the morning's events. In fact, I wasn't even angry. The only way I could describe myself was numb. That was ok though. I liked numb.

Once I was safely in my apartment I switched the oven on, throwing the pizza in at once. At first I decided to wait twenty minutes until it was done, but after only five I caved in, and began shoving biscuit after biscuit in my mouth. I barely chewed, hardly tasting them, but pausing between each mouthful to drink some soda. See, I could eat. I was eating now! Not just biscuits, but bread. I tore off random chunks with my mouth, not even bothering to pick up a knife. There was no time for that, only time for mouthfuls of soda between. Following the bread with some chips, the chips followed by ice cream, and the pizza was finally done. I took it out of the oven, barely waiting a few minutes until it had cooled down, and taking a packet of sugar, I poured it over the surface of the pizza. Then, more controlled, more slowly, I ate it. _The whole thing. _

As soon as I'd eaten the last sliver of pizza; it kicked in. Guilt and shame and oh _fuck_ I was an idiot. Thousands of calories, _thousands_. Well, it wasn't too late, not if I moved quickly. Stumbling into the bathroom I leant over the toilet and heaved time and time again until I was absolutely positive it had all come out. I even had to flush the chain several times in between, not wanting to overload the toilet. Once I'd finished, I cleaned up the remaining flecks of vomit that were randomly spread over the bathroom, stripped down to my underwear and threw my clothes in the wash, knowing that they smelt beyond vile. Going back to the kitchen I washed up the dishes, and put any remaining food well out of sight. If I couldn't see it then I wouldn't be tempted to gorge myself yet again. Of course it would have to go, but at the moment I had zero energy, and felt far too dizzy to leave the apartment.

Leaving the empty packets and wrappers on the side of the kitchen unit, I stumbled back towards the bathroom. I flicked on the shower, sitting underneath it, washing my hair, washing myself, needing to be clean. Reaching over to the bathroom cabinet I rinsed out my mouth with baking soda, reducing any damage the vomit would do, then rinsing with mouthwash a few minutes later to get rid of the horrid taste. As soon as I had finished I quickly got out, drying with a towel and then wrapping myself in my dressing gown, hoping it would stop me shivering. It didn't. In fact, I only started to warm up once I'd dried my hair and used the hair dryer against every inch of skin that wasn't covered. Weighed myself. Checked I hadn't put on any weight from the bingeing.

I hadn't.

Thank you God.

All of a sudden I was unbearably tired, barely able to keep my eyes open. Padding into my bedroom, I collapsed on the bed, cocooning myself within the duvet. Thinking of how shitty my life was. Wondering if I could ever face going back to work again. More to the point; if I could ever face Cuddy again. She'd reached out and in doing so had sparked something inside me that caused me to feel a lump at the back of my throat. It seemed the numbness was fast disappearing to be replaced by the sadness I'd felt upon sitting in her office. I hated being sad almost as much as I hated being fat. Almost. Here, now, I badly wished that things had been different; because I knew. I'd finally comprehended that there was something very wrong with me, and although I didn't have to view it as a problem, the mere fact that everyone else did meant that I was in trouble. This wasn't just affecting my career, but my health as well. I wasn't stupid, I knew that what Cuddy said came back in my results was true. I could die.

With that lingering thought in my head, I rolled over, and buried myself deeper into the duvet. If I wrapped it over my head too, then I was just a little bit warmer. Not that it really mattered, as within five minutes of my head hitting the pillow, I was out for the count. Asleep. Finally.

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	8. Chapter 8

**Once again, thanks for the feedback my darlings. I really appreciate it, it makes me squee:-)**

**Smiley- I wasn't aware that there were THAT many mistakes. As I already pointed out, differences in dialogue are basically down to the fact that I'm from the UK and some words are spelt differently. For example, analyse/analyze. I assume that's what you mean. As for grammar, I've been told by several people that there aren't that many. Sorry if they annoy you, but I'm doing my best and am actually in the process of arranging a beta.**

**Mayuko-Chan- thanks so much for that explanation. I think I've done it right this time, but if I'm still screwing it up then let me know. Word didn't highlight anything... but then word can often suck, hehe.**

**Fading Addiction Part Eight**

It was the banging that woke me up. Thudding over and over again, as if someone was knocking against the side of my head, forcing me to open my eyes. Disorientated, I unravelled myself from the duvet and rubbed my eyes, blinking as I became used to the light. A quick glance at the clock on my left told me it was only five thirty in the afternoon; so still really early. It took a few more seconds before I understood that the banging signalled someone was at my front door; plainly eager to see me. Hopefully not House, or Cuddy for that matter, as I'd have to let whoever it was in, if only to stop them from annoying my neighbours.

Still wearing my dressing gown, I slowly got up and made my way to the front door. The rest had obviously done me good as my head was no longer spinning. Unlocking the door, I pulled it open gently, sighing when I saw that it was Cuddy. "What do you want Dr. Cuddy?" I asked her.

"To come in." She said, looking over my shoulder behind me. Obviously she was interested in what my home looked like, having never been here before.

Shrugging my shoulders, not bothering to argue I simply replied, "Fine," then I moved to the side to allow her to pass by me. "But I thought you were going to leave me alone."

She turned to me. "I said I'd leave you alone if you were ok." In a gentler voice she added, "You didn't say you were. You started to cry and then ran away. That's good enough reason for me to keep trying."

I rolled my eyes. "Trying to what?"

"To help." When I didn't respond she spoke again. "Can we sit and talk?"

Nodding, I led her over to the couch. I figured I may as well hear what she had to say. If I didn't like it; then I'd show her the door. We were in my domain now, and I controlled what happened here. She may have been my boss within hospital grounds but here in my apartment the same rules didn't apply. "Why exactly have you come here?" Unfortunately my voice didn't sound as strong as I'd hoped it would, making me curse inwardly.

"I was worried about you." At the look of disbelief on my face, she gave a wry smile. "You find that hard to believe huh? Sorry but it's the truth."

"Why me? I'm sure there are several other doctors with personal shit you can poke your nose into. Dr. Clarkson from pedeatrics has some rather suspicious cuts running the length of her arm. You should check her out." I said sarcastically.

"Dr. Clarkson has a boss who's completely capable of looking out for her. As for you on the other hand; well I'd call House anything but capable." Give her credit where it's due, she hadn't risen to the bait.

"Fair point." I conceded. "And if I had a problem then I'd appreciate you looking out for me. But I don't and therefore you're wasting your time. If I'm brutally honest you're pissing me off in the process."

For a fleeting second she looked hurt at my words, before an impassive expression crossed her face. "I'm sorry you feel that way. However, if there's nothing wrong then explain why you ran from my office this morning?"

"You were boring me." I said in the most House like voice I could muster.

"Real funny. Now for something that's even remotely believable?" She pressed.

Just as I was racking my brains for another smart retort, flashing lights appeared in front of my eyes. Suddenly I was desperately thirsty, craving a glass of water. "I uhh, I'll be right back." I mumbled. Cuddy frowned and opened her mouth to say something, but before she did I hauled myself up and moved towards the kitchen. Shakily I picked up a glass and ran the tap, taking a few massive gulps of water then placing the glass on the side. Although my thirst was quenched I still felt strange, as though I was as high as a kite. Contrary to feeling pleasant though, it felt like I was outside my body, a part of another world.

Then there was Cuddy's voice from behind me. "What the _fuck_ is this?"

I span around, immediately realising when she was looking. In my haste to shower and go to bed, I'd completely forgotten all about the empty wrappers which I'd left lying on the kitchen unit. If she realised I'd been bingeing then I was in trouble. Time to use the situation to my advantage. "It's my trash. See, I do eat."

She gawped at me. "Eat? Cameron there's an empty bag of sugar, a pizza box, empty chip packets and bread wrapper."

"Your point?" I asked.

"Do you think I'm stupid? They are classic binge foods Cameron!" She exclaimed.

"Oh _Lisa_, don't get your knickers in a twist," I drawled. "You're just mad because here is proof that I eat so your little I'm-going-to-save-your-life-by-curing-your-anorexia plan can no longer be put into action!"

She shook her head. "If I thought for one second that you'd digested that food then I wouldn't be reacting like this. I know you purged after eating this stuff, despite not being able to prove it. My God, it even explains why your eyes are blood shot!"

"Yeah right, whatever. Don't care… not bothered… leave." I babbled. I wasn't sure how much longer my legs would support me, and I just wanted her out of here.

She opened her mouth to speak. "Cameron…"

"No!" I shouted. "Get out! Out!"

Nevertheless, she stayed put, watching me as I clutched my chest, struggling for breath. She seemed torn between coming towards me and helping and leaving as I'd asked her to. Eventually, she gazed sadly at me, and turned to leave. She walked a couple of steps towards the kitchen door as I stood bent double, trying to catch my breath. Any second now I was going to pass out, I could tell by the way my heart was fluttering in my chest. Any second now…

What made me call out I'm not entirely sure of, but I think it was a combination of pain, and ashamed as I am to admit it, being scared of what was happening. All I knew was that at that very moment in time, anything was better than to be alone.

"Cuddy, please…" I rasped. She stopped walking, though she still had her back to me. "Lisa; help me." Upon hearing those three words she spun around, hurrying over to me. As soon as she placed her hands around my waist my legs collapsed beneath me, and she supported me in her arms, lowering me to the kitchen floor. It was there that we sat for the next few minutes as she checked my pulse and gently rubbed my back, soothing me, whispering that it would be ok, that I was ok, that I just had to calm down and breathe. There was a time when breathing had been so simple, and now, suddenly, it was the most complicated thing in the world.


	9. Chapter 9

Mayuko-Chan, I'm still a bit argh! regarding the whole speech thing but I've given it a go. Also, have got a beta now and so... well it should be ok. Which reminds me, a big thanks to **Kyry **who beta'd this for me. You're rockingful hun! 3. To the rest of you I love the feedback! Been so busy this week it's mental so I had a massive catch-up when I read it all and it made me smile lots and lots. So it really is appreciated!

You would have had this next part a few days ago but I was a loser and spilt a drink all over the keyboard. It was touch and go at first, but though the laptop is still a bit temperamental it's working at the moment.

**Fading Addiction Part Nine**

"You had a panic attack," I heard Cuddy speaking to me, but couldn't really comprehend what she was saying. Though I was feeling less dizzy since she'd helped me into bed, I still wasn't exactly with it. "Your heart was beating faster than usual because you were worked up; scared." She looked at me pityingly, gently placing a hand on my shoulder. For the past ten minutes she'd sat next to me on the bed, having half carried me there in the first place.

"I haven't had a panic attack since I was ten," I protested. "I don't see how that possibly could have been a panic attack."

She informed me: "It's the most realistic explanation Cameron. You're ok now, and soon as you'd taken a few deep breaths your heart rate slowed, and you were able to breathe normally again fairly easily."

"Why though?" I mused aloud. "I just don't get it."

Softly, Cuddy replied, "The fact we'd had a disagreement probably set it off. And you were straining yourself… considering that you're undernourished; you probably couldn't cope as well as you would have if you were fit and healthy."

I sighed. "Cuddy, I appreciate you helping me out just then but really, can we drop the anorexia thing? It's wearing thin; excuse the pun."

She shook her head. "I won't drop it. Before your panic attack I was almost prepared to when you told me to get out, but then you asked me for help."

"Because I thought I was having a heart attack Cuddy! I wanted your help because I was under the impression I was about to die!" I exclaimed.

Frustrated, Cuddy raised her voice. "Oh, and why was that Cameron? Nothing to do with the fact that you're skin and bone, is it? You're a twenty something year old woman; you don't exactly fit the typical criteria for a heart attack sufferer!"

"Maybe I'm just a lucky one of a kind." I sneered.

"Or maybe you're so sick that you don't see what's staring you in the face. You're anorexic. Anorexic, Cameron. How many times do I have to say it before you understand?!" She was shouting now, no longer the gentle and caring Cuddy.

"I'm not! Why can't you understand that?!" I screamed, losing control.

In a surprising move back to the caring person she'd been just seconds before; Cuddy took my hands in her own. "Because when I look at you, I see that you're fading before my eyes. I used to see a beautiful, amazing, bright young woman. Ok, you've always been a little on the thin side. But now… Cameron I look at you and I want to detain you in hospital. You're not you." Oh God, was she crying?

I gave her a small smile. "You're wrong. I'm not beautiful. And those with anorexia don't look like me. I'm positively fat compared to them."

She laughed; a contrast to the tears that were running down her face. "You aren't fat, and part of anorexia is that you don't realise that." She tried to compose herself.

"Why are you so upset?" I asked, completely bemused.

"Because it's horrible to watch you destroy yourself like this. And I wish… I wish…" Her voice trailed off.

"You wish what?" I probed.

"I wish I could make you better," she said simply, wiping the tears from her face. Then, she clasped my hands again, making my vision go fuzzy as I blinked back the tears.

Swallowing, I felt a lump in my throat. She'd made a mistake; I was ok.

I was ok, wasn't I?

Then it came to me. _Something_ clicked. Gently I said, "Look I… I'm sorry. For the way I've been behaving. If I've upset you then just say so, you don't have to hide behind the anorexia accusations, I know I've been a bitch to you. Granted I didn't think it would make you so upset you'd cry but I guess I don't know you well enough to judge that."

Cuddy, still holding my hands, squeezed them tightly. "You really don't see what you're doing to yourself do you? You don't see why I'm here?"

"There's nothing to see," I said, trying not to speak too harshly, but being firm. "And as for why you're here, no, I don't see that either."

"When you see, I'll be there. I promise." She let go of me, and wiped her eyes. "I just pray that by then it isn't too late." She stood, walked towards the bedroom door.

I decided a change of subject was best. "I uhh, I'll be at work tomorrow. If that's ok?" I wasn't sure if she wanted me there after I took off mid shift today.

"That's fine," She smiled. "And you know I'm always here if you need me. Always."

I smiled back, letting her know that I understood. "I'll see myself out." She told me, and with that disappeared from my view. However, the click of my apartment door opening and then closing again let me know that she'd left.

Without really intending to, I found that I was unable to stop thinking about Cuddy and what she'd said. The moment she left I'd wished she'd stayed for longer, even though she'd probably have spent it berating me. It was almost as if… as if I liked being around her. For the life of me I couldn't work out why that was; she was annoying, intrusive, intent on thinking I had an eating disorder, and generally served to make me angry. At the same time, there was something, something I couldn't put my finger on, that made me happy when she was around. Some sort of spark is the only way I can think of describing it. For a while I considered the idea that I may have feelings for her, but concluded that there's no way on earth this would be possible. After all; I don't even like her. What sane person would fall in love with someone they not only have nothing in common with but who gets a kick out of implying they're some sort of freak? Anorexic freak at that; which I'm most certainly not.

No, there's no way I want to "connect" with Cuddy in an intimate way. I'm just confused because I've been put through a lot by her, which she tries to convince me is for my own good. It's just a shame for her that I can see right through her act, and there's no way that I'll be letting her get away with it any longer. From tomorrow onwards I'm going to ascertain control; no matter how far I have to go to get it. I'll have to be cool, calm and aloof, proving that I can be just as independent a woman as she is. Better, even. There'll be no more smiles for her, no more cutting her slack. It's time to be an outright bitch; it's the only way that I'll be able to continue working at the hospital. Once House sees what I'm doing, hopefully he'll learn to keep his mouth shut too. Won't he?

Needless to say, the voice of doubt regarding the entire plan was quickly put to the back of my mind.

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	10. Chapter 10

Thank yooou for the reviews! And big thanks to Kyry my beta! You make me laugh with your comments and I really appreciate what you do for me. 3.

**Fading Addiction Part Ten**

Come the next morning [Was it really Saturday already? the doubt within me had increased further. Trying not to think about it I went for my morning jog, drank my usual black coffee, showered, and dressed for work. Then, I decided to put the empty food wrappers from yesterday into the garbage, no longer able to face them. Upon going into the kitchen, I noticed that there was a yellow post-it note stuck onto the kitchen counter, which most definitely hadn't been there the previous day. Seeing that it was a cell phone number with a landline written beneath it, I tore it off, reading the message below.

_Call whenever. Lisa x_

Suddenly my oh-so-great plan to be a first class bitch to Cuddy didn't seem like a great idea. Something that I'm pretty sure was shame rose within me at my intentions to go out of my way to be spiteful. I was a pathetic, weak and nasty person who didn't deserve anyone's concern, least of all someone as decent a human being as Cuddy. Knowing that I'd have to face her in a short while made bile rise in my throat, and I'm sure that if my stomach hadn't been completely empty from anything other than black coffee, I would have thrown up there and then. It was one thing being mean to her on the spur of the moment as I always seemed to, but planning to be nasty? That was taking things to a whole new level.

I pocketed the note.

Upon arriving in work I was informed by Chase and Foreman that we had a new patient. House had apparently taken an interest, though he sat swinging around in circles on his chair, offering not so much as a "Good morning" to me. Regarding the case, it looked as though this was going to be even more complicated than usual, due to the fact that our patient was only six months old. She'd been brought to the hospital by her worried parents after she began to suffer difficulty breathing. Only thing was, her heart was working perfectly well, her lungs were clear, and there was no obvious explanation as to why this was.

"It could be a genetic disorder?" Chase suggested.

"No, she's had every test going, it's likely it would have shown up," Foreman dismissed the idea.

"Not if the particular disorder required a specific test to detect it," Chase argued.

"More likely to be environmental though," I chipped in. "Has anyone searched her home yet?"

"Not yet," Chase replied. "You up for it?"

"Chase, Cameron's moved on," House said in a mock sympathetic voice. "Oh, you mean is she up for a search? Ok, got that."

Chase opened his mouth to speak. "I just think…"

"Yeah yeah yeah; take Foreman with you and go," House instructed.

"Why me and not Cameron?" Foreman frowned.

"Because Cameron can deal with the ickle baba's parents and question them; she's the people person here," Foreman and Chase nodded, getting up and leaving me alone with House. As I got up to leave too, House gave me another instruction. "And for God's sake don't let Cuddy butt in as far as the case is concerned. You know how she gets around babies." He faked a shudder.

Remembering this from a previous case and realising House would probably know why- I asked, "Why is that?"

"She likes to think of herself as a mother. Feels the need to take other people's children under her wing since she doesn't have her own." He blurted out, adding as an afterthought, "Thank God."

I frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," He shrugged. "Except that the thought of a mini-Cuddy disturbs me beyond belief. But hey, chances are it'll never happen so yay for us!"

"She wants children though, so why wouldn't she eventually have them?" I rationalised. "Unless she's infertile?" When there was no reply from House, I realised I was right. "She is; isn't she?"

Even by House's standards, he realised he was in way too deep; I could tell by the fleeting expression on his face. Backtracking he said, "I didn't say that."

"No you didn't, but that's what you meant," I said, refusing to give up. "Come on; spill the beans."

Sighing, House rolled his eyes. "Ok, ok. So, it goes like this. Cuddy only wants a baby if like, I totally agree to provide the necessary ingredients and as I've said no and no one else is up to the job of impregnating the Almighty Dean, ze baby no exeest." He pulled a funny face at me, then, hobbling towards his office, he shut the door behind him as he left the room. Either he was going to try and work out the case or do something less productive like watch his favourite soap. Probably the latter.

Knowing that I was right and House was just covering for Cuddy, I tried to put what I'd just learnt about her out of my mind as it wasn't at all relevant to the case. I scanned the file. Hannah Phelps, daughter of typical white middle class Americans. No significant medical history or family history. This was going to be fun to work out.

Entering her room, I smiled at the two people standing next to her cot, trying to put them at ease. "Hi there. I'm Dr. Cameron, and I'm going to be one of the doctors treating your daughter," We shook hands getting the formalities out of the way. "We're currently going through a few ideas we have, but I thought I'd take the time to come and meet Hannah."

They both smiled and nodded, showing their appreciation for this. I hoped I hadn't raised their expectations too much by suggesting we had ideas, but it would go down better than if they discovered where Chase and Foreman really were. Besides, I needed them to trust me, so they'd be more likely to answer my questions honestly.

As it turned out, the questioning revealed nothing of importance. Frustrated, I said my goodbyes and exited the room, deciding I'd watch the three of them interact through the glass window. I surprised myself by thinking about how cute Hannah was, and how it'd be worth all the tears, tantrums and sleepless nights just to have a beautiful baby like her. It seemed that both parents appeared to love Hannah unconditionally, and provide comfort for each other, evident through their tactile behaviour. Something inside told me that this was nothing to do with either of them; at least not deliberately. Of course, I had no proof, but a strong feeling told me that they were entirely innocent of any wrongdoing. Even if they were the cause, then it was likely to be an accident, a mistake. What it was I didn't know yet; but with any luck Chase and Foreman would be able to shed some light on that.

"Cameron?"

I turned to see Cuddy looking at me. Surprisingly I found that smiling at her came naturally to me. "Hey."

She smiled back. "I've been calling your name for the past minute and you've been in a world of your own. You ok?"

"I'm fine. Just thinking about the case and Hannah; she's adorable, she shouldn't have to go through this," I told her. For a moment I wondered whether I should mention the note she'd left for me before I realised it would probably make things awkward. If she brought it up then fair enough; but I wasn't going to be the one to do so.

"Ah." She glanced over at the Phelps', a heart wrenching expression on her face. "It's always horrible when there are babies or children involved. Not that it's worse; just different. Different in the same way as it is when you have to watch someone you care about destroy themselves." She hinted.

Knowing she was aiming the last comment at me, my defences rose. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She sighed. "Nothing Cameron."

"No; go on, you're obviously dying to say something," I pushed, my voice getting louder. As it did so Hannah's father glanced over, seemingly wondering what was going on.

"Look, maybe this isn't the best place to be doing this." Cuddy said, noticing Mr Phelp's movement.

"On the contrary, this is the perfect place. Where we're not in your office and you have to speak to me with some sort of respect in front of others," I spat.

"Respect? You're a fine one to talk," She hissed. "I'm your boss and you speak to me like this?"

I stared at her angrily. "As my boss, you don't deserve respect!"

"Well I demand it!" She shouted in reply. Then, as if remembering where we were she lowered her voice a little. "I can see how much you care about your patient, your job, your work. But you need to work on your attitude towards me, and even more importantly, your health."

I laughed. "You just don't know when to quit do you?"

"This isn't a joke Cameron. Your life isn't a joke," She spoke calmly, irritating me further. "Tell me something. When you look at Hannah, how _adorable_ she is; do you envision yourself as a mother? At some point in the future; do you want children? Let me tell you something; it won't happen if you carry on treating your body the way you have been. In fact, I'd be surprised if you told me you still had periods." Her expression was a mixture of emotions; sad, angry, concerned and determined. How she managed to pull that off I was sure I'd never know.

Not that it mattered, I was so angry at her words that anger was all I wanted my own expression to reveal. Anger, hatred and bitterness. I'm guessing hungry too. Hungry in so many ways. It was the hunger was what made me say what I did next, I was sure of it. There's no way I could have ever been _that _mean otherwise. Pure spite and venom in my tone, I sneered, "Just because you're unable to conceive Dr. Cuddy, it doesn't mean that I'll have the same problem."

She was taken aback, that much was obvious. By the looks of things, she was hurt too. I couldn't blame her, I had been cruel. Too cruel. As soon as the words had left my mouth, I wanted to take them back; but I couldn't. Instead, I was forced to watch as she turned and walked away, uttering not another word in my presence.

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	11. Chapter 11

**You guys are absolutely amazing, the reviews really do spur me on to carry on with my fics. Wolf, your review especially meant a lot to me; reviews like that truly make this worthwhile and serve as a constant reminder that life is so worth living for. :-)**

**And Kyry, the beta-ing is so useful; it really is, so thank you. Really appreciate the fact that you take the time to review as well as being my beta!**

**Fading Addiction Part Eleven**

Let me make it clear; I did try to stop her. Perhaps not hard enough, but it wasn't like I just calmly watched her walk away. I grabbed her arm, begged, pleaded, apologised. It didn't work. She was past angry, past upset. I'd hurt her, and caused damage that was maybe irreparable. It was why she'd shrugged me off, walked faster, unable to look me in the eye. There wasn't much point in me following her all the way to her office and I merely stared at the door as she slammed it in my face, hoping she'd see how sorry I was. I knew I'd crossed the line, had known the second she turned her back to me without so much as a "Fuck you". You swore at someone you were angry with in the heat of the moment. What I'd said would probably earn me a lifetime of disgust from Cuddy. The worst part?

I fucking deserved it.

There was no word to describe what I'd become. I was the lowest of the low, and I hated myself for it.

It probably would have been a good idea to give up, walk away, and accept that I wasn't going to get anywhere, but losing wasn't in my nature. Sure I'd had to give up regarding certain things before, but I was determined that here and now was not going to be one of those times. So, I wrenched open the door, shutting it behind me, and glanced around to see that the blinds were also down; giving us total privacy. Opening my mouth to speak, I tried to sound sincere. "I'm so so sorry. You have to believe me; I never meant to say that."

She ignored me.

I tried again. "Please. Please listen to me."

Still she stayed silent.

"At least say _something," _I begged.

Nothing.

"If I could take back what I said, I would in an instant," I whispered. Suddenly, I wanted to cry. Standing there facing Cuddy's back, facing complete silence from her, I wished I'd never been born.

"But you _can't_; can you?" Cuddy finally spoke, her voice lower than usual, somehow broken.

Moving towards her, I placed a hand on her arm, grateful when she didn't shrug it off. "I know. I'll never forgive myself for saying it, I hate myself for it."

Cuddy turned to face me, though not looking me in the eye. "I don't care how you feel. Just get out." She didn't say it cruelly; she just stated it, like she wasn't bothered about me leaving either way.

I shook my head. "Not until you've heard me out."

She laughed sarcastically. "You mean like you've been prepared to listen to me regarding your eating disorder?"

"That's a totally separate issue," I defended myself. She could make me feel guilty about what I said to her, but not about denying that I had anorexia.

"No it's not," She spoke quietly. "It's the entire reason all we've done lately is argue. Snap at each other." Her eyes finally met mine. "Say hurtful things."

I managed to croak, "I'm sorry."

Cuddy continued to look down as she pulled her arm away from me and said, "Out of interest, how did you know about my problems with conceiving?"

Knowing that I had no choice but to tell her the truth- something which there was no doubt I owed her anyway, I said regretfully, "House. He kind of made a comment… and I put two and two together."

She nodded. "Like I did with your eating disorder."

Not wishing to get angry, but trying to explain that I was ok, I reasoned, "If you just believed me when I deny having anorexia then we wouldn't have to argue," I reasoned. "I want us to get on; even be friends. I don't hate you Cuddy, no matter how much you think I do. I admit there was a time when I disliked you being around, your interfering, but that's not true. Not anymore. Just listen to me when I say there isn't a problem."

"You say there isn't a problem; but your body tells a different story." She moved closer to me, standing inches away. Slowly, she lifted a hand, bringing it up to the bare flesh just below my neck. Gently, she traced a finger up and down my clavicle, sending a shiver down my spine. "There's nothing to you. You're fading and fading, and it's horrendous to see."

I gulped, feeling uncomfortable with her close proximity. Something fluttered inside my stomach that I couldn't place, but made my heart beat a little faster, made my mouth go a little drier. Without wanting to figure out what this meant, I croaked, "I think I should go."

She made eye contact with me, pulling her hand away from my chest. "I think you should too. I can't help you Cameron; you need to do that for yourself." She looked at me sadly. "At least my inability to conceive is through no fault of my own. I've done everything in my power to have a baby, and failed. But I tried. You on the other hand seem to happily risk death. You're not who I thought you were. The anorexia has turned you into a vicious person that I don't even recognise anymore." She wiped at the tears in her eyes. "Please leave."

It took all the energy I possessed to take a step backwards, towards the door. So badly I wanted to stay and comfort her, somehow make everything ok between us, say a magic word and create a happy ending. Realistically I knew this wasn't going to happen, and so, it was time for me to leave, as she wanted me to. My presence was obviously upsetting her, and ultimately, that was only going to make the situation worse.

Clasping the door handle in my hand, I pulled the door open. Still facing Cuddy, I felt as though I should say something; _anything_. Sorry wasn't good enough; words weren't sufficient, but Cuddy was looking at me through glistening tears, expectantly. Maybe she wanted me to admit I needed help, that anorexia was everything that caused me to be the bitch I was. With a hint of hope in her voice she said, "Dr. Cameron?"

Shaking my head, I wrenched my eyes away from hers. When we made eye contact it felt as though she could read me, see through my soul and know what I was thinking. The issue was, if she knew what I was thinking, then she would have the upper hand; the control. Fundamentally this was problem I didn't want to come up against, because then, the real me would rear its' ugly head. The me who I swore a long long time ago would be forgotten, put to rest at the back of the closet and never again shown to others. Maybe the person I was today wasn't much better and people walked all over me, but I had one thing that was mine; that they had no say over. If I wanted to exercise then I'd exercise, and if I wanted to starve then I'd damn well starve. Lisa Cuddy may have control over my job, but she didn't control my weight.

Without a second look back; I left without another word.


	12. Chapter 12

**Thanks guys. :-) Dervla in response to your review, I guess what I'm trying to do is emphasise how anorexia makes the sufferer deny there's a problem by disguising their problem as their weight. Hopefull it'll become clearer to you later on why Cameron is suffering, but thanks for pointing that out.**

**Hehe Kyry, I'm still amused that you review as well as being my beta, though also very grateful. Thank you!**

**Fading Addiction Part Twelve**

At home that evening, I truly understood what it felt like to be alone. It seemed that now Cuddy had lost interest in me, there was no one around; even to annoy me. I think that what made it worse was that because recently I'd been so wrapped up in interacting with Cuddy (in a mostly negative way but that wasn't the point) and now there really was nothing I could say to her, everything appeared ten times worse. Not even exercise could correct this. For a second or two I did consider another binge, but worried that so soon after a previous one this wouldn't be a good idea for my body. Of course, there was always a binge of a different kind to carry out.

Jack Daniels; I love you.

Digging around the cupboard for the one and only bottle I had, I located it fairly quickly. Not troubling to take the time to find a glass, I immediately took a few swigs. Alcohol had never really been the sort of thing I turned to, or maybe I would have found myself with a drinking problem rather than an eating problem. Wait; there was no problem. I had to call it something else, though I had no idea what. Decision? Yes, that was a good word. Eating decision. I decided, I made the choice, I wouldn't eat. Eating was overrated anyway, and a waste of time!

Sipping the Jack Daniels more slowly now, I collapsed onto my couch and shut my eyes, trying not to think about the calories that I was consuming. All I wanted was to forget how appalling today had been and remain in my own little world. I had no one, so the latter should be fairly easy. The first was going to be slightly more complicated, but then, Jack was here to help me. Unlike Cuddy.

Goddamn it; don't think about her.

Cuddy. Cuddy Cuddy Cuddy. Her name replayed in my head on a continuous loop, her face swarming my thoughts and making me wish I'd never met her. I hated her for interfering, but I felt awful for hurting her. At the same time, I wanted to be with her, if only so we could just sit together in silence. There was something about her that I just couldn't let go of, and again, I began to wonder if this was because I had feelings of some sort for her. It wasn't entirely impossible; I'd dated women before, and she was an extremely attractive one. Perhaps I'd never realised it before, as I'd just known her as an Administrator; off limits. As soon as she began to get involved with me on a personal level, somehow my feelings were triggered and BAM my crush was ignited.

However, whilst this was a logical explanation, it was also the most shattering one. If I was falling for Cuddy, then I was in trouble, there was no doubt about it. There was no way she'd feel the same; not in a million years. Whilst it was a fairly harmless crush then I could deal with it, but if by some unlucky fluke it developed into something stronger, such as love, there was no doubt about it; I was in trouble.

_Stop_ thinking about her.

Think about calories. That's right; consider those instead. Speaking of which; how many had I just consumed? _Fuck._

Well, may as well continue what I've started. I'm fat and _nothing_ is ever going to change.

At this thought, I took several gulps from the bottle in my hand, and slammed it down on the coffee table in front of me. Already woozy (well I had drunk half the bottle on an empty stomach) I decided I needed the toilet, and with great difficulty, stumbled my way there. What should have taken a minute quickly turned into ten as I fumbled with my trousers before even managing to pee, and then fell over two or three times on my way out of the bathroom, on my way back towards the couch. When I aimed to sit down I missed, by which point I was far too tired to work up the energy to get back up. Instead I sprawled myself across the carpet, my head propped up slightly by the couch behind me.

Don't ask me what possessed me to do what I did next; but I'm guessing it was something to do with the fact that I was a drunken mess. Sliding along the floor until I was closer to the phone, I reached for it. Then, taking the note on which Cuddy's numbers were written from my pocket, I debated which number to call. If I called her cell, my caller ID would come up, and whilst I could ring on private number; it was hassle. The home number would be a better option as she was less likely to have caller ID on that, and even if she did, she was more likely to answer without thinking. It amused me that I could think this rationally whilst intoxicated, but then, I'd always had the strangest talents.

Like starving myself.

Suppressing a smile at my sick humour, I typed the number into the keypad. I had to do it slowly or I would have easily misdialled due to the fact that my head was swimming and my hands were shaking. Never had I been able to hold my drink, even from a young age. At times it was frustrating, but right now I was just happy that it was giving me Dutch courage. Had I been sober there was no way I would have rang Cuddy; I wouldn't have known what to say. I wasn't really sure why I was ringing her anyway; all I knew was that suddenly I had an overwhelming urge to hear her voice; even if all she was going to do was yell at me for disturbing her when there was nothing left to say.

There had to be _something_ to talk about.

In truth, there was much I wanted to say, but knew that I didn't have the guts. I couldn't admit my feelings for her; especially over the phone, but so long as we had some sort of a conversation then at least I wouldn't regret sitting back and doing nothing. Chances were we'd probably end up arguing; we always did, but if that was what was meant to happen then so be it. I wasn't going to shy away from doing what fundamentally I believed was right (or at least the alcohol was making me believe) because whilst I was a lot of bad things; I wasn't a coward. The one thing I could pride myself on was that I fought until the end, in any situation, if I truly deemed it necessary. Whether or not that would benefit me in this situation I had yet to find out, but I had to take the risk. Sometimes risks paid off, and all I could do was pray that now would be one of those times.

It had to be.

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	13. Chapter 13

**Again, huge thanks to Kyry for being my beta, and LOLZ for the last review. ;-)**

**Thanks to all you guys for the awesome feedback, the personal comments, everything really! I doubt I'll be posting before Christmas Day now so I hope everyone has an amazing Christmas no matter how they spend it. :-)**

**Fading Addiction Part Thirteen**

The phone rang several times before she picked up, and for a brief moment I wondered if she was even home. However, a familiar click sounded, and I heard the voice I knew so well say, "Hello?"

Taking a deep breath I replied, "Hey."

"Who is this?" I was dismayed to discover that she didn't recognise my voice. Ok so I'd spoken just one word; but still.

"It's Cameron." I informed her, deciding I'd wait to see how she responded before saying anything else.

"Cameron?" She sounded surprised, but considering how we'd parted earlier that was to be expected. "Are you ok?"

The question which she'd asked me so many times, yet still continued to ask, made me want to laugh. Knowing this would be a bad idea, I managed to hold it back. Firmly I replied, "Yes."

"Then why is it you're ringing?" She said, confused. "I thought we had nothing left to say to each other."

Deciding honesty was the best policy I slurred, "Just wanted to chat. Nothing wrong with that is there?"

There was silence for a few moments before she asked tentatively, "Have you been drinking?"

At this question I couldn't hold back the laugh, and didn't attempt to cover it up. "I've had a few yeah."

The moment I'd spoken those words, she flew off the handle, snapping, "I don't have time for this! Goodbye Dr. Cameron. And by God if you're not sober for work in the morning the first thing I'll do is fire your ass and the second is have you committed to the psych ward." She threatened.

Although I wasn't entirely sure if she was serious or not, her words still made me angry; especially after I'd made an effort to be nice. "Go to hell Cuddy." I sneered.

"Excuse me?!" She was evidently taken aback.

"Do what you must; I don't care. Nothing you say or do can hurt me any worse than what I've already faced in my life." It was unlike me to play the sympathy card but the truth was; her words had hurt me. No way on earth would I ever admit this, and so, nonchalance was all I could think of turning to.

She hesitated for a brief moment. Then, speaking slowly she said, "Cameron… what's this about?"

"What do you care?" I asked, trying not to get upset.

She laughed wryly. "What do I care? Let me see; I've only spent the past God knows' how many weeks worrying about not just your health; but you. I've reached out, tried to understand, tried to help, and every time you throw it back in my face. Maybe I'm just sick of trying with you."

I nodded, even though I knew she couldn't see me. "Maybe I'm just sick of being me." I whispered, before hanging up the phone. As strange as it was to admit something this personal, to Cuddy of all people, it seemed that tonight I had lost control and couldn't help but act like a completely different person. In fact, I wasn't even sure who the real me was anymore. Was I really in control? It certainly didn't feel like it; not the way it used to. There was a time when refusing food and watching my bones slowly appear in the mirror before me gave me the greatest buzz. It helped me not feel the pain; become this superior human being who was numb to everything including love. Somehow, lately all that had changed. What if I really was ill? What if I was just in complete denial that there was something very wrong with me? What if anorexia was controlling me? The possible answers to these questions scared me more than ever, sent shivers down my spine that all the warmth in the world couldn't eradicate.

Although I was upset, the tears refused to come. Instead my body began to shake uncontrollably, and despite wrapping my arms around myself and telling myself to calm down, it continued to do so. Everything looked different; felt different. A swarm of emotions overcame me; but what I felt the most, what was the hardest thing to deal with was the feeling that I was utterly out of control. My world was falling apart, my image shattering into a million little pieces, and I was more frightened than ever. The walls were closing in on me, and I was suffocated by my own mistakes, my stupid belief that everything was fine.

Everything wasn't fine.

It wasn't even close.

* * *

I'm unsure of how long I remained lying on the floor, but it must have been somewhere in the region of half an hour. It was likely that had there not been a knock at my apartment door I would have remained in that position all night. Whilst I had barely any energy to move, the thought that someone was just feet away from me having made the effort to come and see me caused a knot in my stomach. The knot tightened as I considered the possibility that it was Cuddy. Really, she was the only person I could envision standing on the other side of the door, but until I opened it I wouldn't know for sure. 

Keeping the chain on as it was starting to get late (already ten o'clock; where had all the time gone?) I opened the door slightly. Cuddy partially came into view, and through the narrow gap she made eye contact with me. "Cameron? Please can I come in?"

Nodding, I unhooked the chain and opened the door fully so as to let her pass me by. She did so immediately, and as soon as she was out of the way, I locked the door again. For the life of me I had no idea why I was suddenly preoccupied with safety, but perhaps I could attribute it to the fact that suddenly I felt naked. Vulnerable.

"Why are you here Cuddy?" Hearing my own voice, I sounded tired. Way too tired.

"I was worried about you." She said simply.

"Yeah?" I didn't see the point in arguing; not that I had the energy to. I could still feel the effects of the alcohol, although slowly but surely, they were wearing off. Previously I couldn't even walk, but now I managed to stand up fairly steadily. Well; for the moment.

"Yeah." She said softly. "It seems to be all I'm doing lately."

"Maybe you should get a hobby." I smiled to let her know I wasn't being sarcastic.

She returned the smile. "Maybe I should." She moved closer to me, taking my hand in her own. Such a small sign of support, but it was a huge comfort to me. At the same time, human contact when I was least expecting it from her after the way I'd treated her, made my eyes well up, and I felt the tears begin to trickle down my cheeks. There was no hiding it this time; I had hit the point of exhaustion and barely had the energy to remain in an upright position without the added problem of trying to keep Cuddy from seeing my tears. Instead I let them flow freely down my face, still staring Cuddy in the eye, until she wrapped her arms around and let me collapse onto her, as realisation hit me.

I was sick.

_Really_ sick.

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	14. Chapter 14

**Cheers for all the lovely comments guys, and thanks to Kyry for doing the honours of being my beta. :-) **

**Fading Addiction Part Fourteen**

Though I am ashamed to say so, I clung onto Cuddy as if I were a little girl for a good hour. Though I didn't want to admit it, I was scared that the moment our bodies broke apart she would leave and I'd be alone once again. Right now I didn't care what happened as long as she remained with me, holding me. Inside, I think Cuddy sensed that close contact was what I needed and so, although eventually she gently guided me to sit on the couch, she didn't protest or tell me to pull myself together. Maybe she knew that if she did that I'd permanently fall to pieces and there would be no helping me.

Or maybe she cared enough to give me what I needed.

"Cuddy?" I lifted my head up to speak, my voice broken as I spoke to her. I was beginning to feel more lucid now, and though the alcohol was still having a big effect on my ability to think and move, I could hold a conversation fairly well. The only thing I hated was that it had made me more open, and therefore I was scared I would reveal too much of myself to Cuddy. I prayed that this wouldn't happen.

"Yes?" She replied, full of concern.

"I hate this," I whispered.

Gently, she traced her thumb along my cheekbone, back and forth, back and forth. In a strange way it was comforting, and I was calmed just a little more when she said, "If you let me; I'll help you. I can't take away the pain Cameron, but if you start talking to me, start opening up, I can make it easier."

Suddenly, denial was the least appealing thing in the world. Nodding, I tried to show her that I accepted her offer. I forced myself to croak out, "Ok."

She continued, "It's going to be hard; but I'm here." She gave me a small smile.

"It's just… accepting it. It means accepting that I've been living a lie, pretending I was ok when I wasn't," I admitted.

"Cameron; for you to merely say that is a big step. Before you flat out refused to listen, but now you're contemplating it's a possibility; well that's good." Tightly, she enveloped me in another hug. "When you're ready to come out and say it, I'm here."

"I want to." I said, muffled by her shoulder pressing into my mouth. Pulling away to face her I said, "I need to." For what felt like a long time I paused, but eventually, I managed to psyche myself up. "I'm anorexic." I could say the words, but still couldn't quite believe them. It was almost as if I was saying them without any true meaning behind them, though on some level I knew that it wasn't an outright lie. A total contradiction, but that's the only way I can explain it.

Cuddy nodded, tears in her eyes. Seeing this made me want to cry harder; purely because I had never before felt so weak and exposed, and here I was upsetting her. However, I was still unclear as to why she had reacted to the situation the way she had.

Cautiously I asked, "Why are you upset? When I wouldn't admit it before; you got angry. You tried persuading me, begging me… why do you react differently to a situation that has essentially stayed the same?"

"It hasn't stayed the same." She said wearily, wiping away the tears that had begun to leave her eyes and were threatening to roll down her cheeks. "It's got worse, we've become closer, and as time passes it's become harder. I react in various ways because… well because I'm human Cameron. That's what humans do, they experience all kinds of emotions."

"But before any of that, when I fainted in the clinic, you seemed emotionless; like you couldn't have cared less." I stated, hurt at the memory which has surfaced.

She shrugged. "I was trying to figure you out. I'm sorry if I seemed like a bitch; that wasn't my intention."

"It's ok, I've behaved far worse towards you." I said, suddenly embarrassed by my actions towards her, that night especially. I couldn't believe I'd rung her, slurring down the phone.

"You have a reason." She said gently.

I shook my head. "No; it's no excuse. I'm sorry." Shakily, I took her hand in my own. She was warm, and the warmth spread to the tips of my fingers, making me feel alive for the first time in as long as I could remember.

"You're forgiven." Smiling, she squeezed my hand, backing up the fact that she genuinely accepted my apology with her body language. The pressure sent my heart racing, this time in a good way, and impulsively, probably due to the fact I was still under the influence of alcohol, I placed a kiss on her cheek. As I moved away her mouth brushed against the side of my face, leaving my skin tingling for a few seconds after. At first I worried that she was going to be mad, and expecting to see a frown on her face, I raised my eyes to look into hers. Instead, she was staring at me with an indescribable expression, and before I knew it her mouth had clashed against mine and we were kissing; actually kissing. Her mouth was pressed to mine, her tongue flicking against the roof of my mouth over and over, causing my skin to prickle, my thoughts no longer hazy but consumed with the moment, what was finally taking place. It felt as though I'd been waiting for this all my life, and for the first time in a long time I allowed myself to feel good. To feel something other than ugly.

Cuddy made me feel _real._

I _existed._

All too soon she pulled away, sitting before me but not looking me in the eye, catching her breath. When she was finally able to breathe, she faced me directly, and said in little more than a whisper, "Did that just happen?"

Nervous, not knowing whether she already thought it was a huge mistake, I spoke apprehensively. "Yeah." Though I had planned on saying something else my mouth was suddenly dry, and I was conscious of the fact that my lips were swollen, throbbing from the contact with Cuddy's mouth.

"Are you ok with it?" She asked, her eyes wide, anticipating my answer.

"Depends what _it_ is." I'd hoped to get across that I was confused, but instead, judging by the expression on her face I'd merely succeeded in mystifying her, and hurting her feelings according to the flash of sadness that appeared in her eyes. Therefore, I added, "If _it_ is kissing you on a regular basis then I'm more than ok with this. And… I'm not just saying this because I've been drinking; promise." As I said this she smiled, making my heart skip a beat. She'd never smiled at me like that before; and it served to make me want to kiss her over and over again.

No longer smiling, but still looking at me happily, Cuddy ran a hand through her hair, pushing it back from her face. "You're still going to let me be there for you right?"

Despite being scared beyond belief, and the memories of our conversation prior to the kiss again entering the forefront of my mine, I nodded. "But I need to do this my way, ok? I've lived this way for so long that I don't even remember what it's like to be normal." Sadly, I dropped my voice to a lower level. "I don't know how to sit and eat a meal without freaking out."

Cuddy cupped my face in her hands, and firmly she informed me, "I'm going to support you every step of the way Allison. Every time it gets hard, whenever you feel like giving up, I'm going to make sure you keep going."

Something in her voice told me that she was telling the truth, that I should place my trust in her. Whereas previously if she'd said this I would have snapped, got angry, walked away or ran as fast as I could to the nearest food store seeking some sort of comfort from a binge; I accepted her words. Whether it was because she'd called me Allison or because of what had happened between us, I wasn't sure. I was pretty sure the latter was the main reason whilst the first served to back it up. Resolutely I replied, "Ok."


	15. Chapter 15

**Aww, thanks so much for still reading people. It means so much to me that you take the time to review:-)** A**nd Kyry, your reviews and help still amuses me just as much as your emails, so keep it up:P **

**Fading Addiction Part Fifteen**

Waking up the next morning, it took a while before I remembered the events of the previous night. In fact, when I first opened my eyes my immediate thought was, "I'm going to be sick." Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I intended on making it to the toilet as fast as possible. Unfortunately, my legs weren't too keen on cooperating, and before I could take my first step they buckled under me, promptly causing my knees to slam against the floor. Unable to hold it in any longer, I vomited there and then. Considering the lack of food in my stomach, all that came up was the vodka I'd drank, mixed with stomach bile. All in all, it wasn't a pretty sight.

What a good start to the day.

Once I'd stopped throwing up and felt slightly better, I set about cleaning up the mess I'd made, stopping only to thank God that Cuddy wasn't here to see me now. She had asked if I wanted her to stay the night, but to be honest, no matter how much I wanted to say yes, I knew that it was a bad idea. It was too much, too fast, and I wasn't going to fuck things up when I could easily spend the night alone. Well, not easily, but you know what I mean. For a few moments I sat quietly on my couch, hoping that my head would stop spinning, even if it was only a little. I also knew that no matter how much I wanted to exercise, it wasn't a good idea. Having just vomited, my heart would be working overtime trying to restore the chemicals in my body to the correct levels, and exercising would screw all of that up. As much as it pained me to shower and dress without jogging; it was for the best.

On my way into work, my nerves were shot to pieces at the thought of facing Cuddy again. After our conversation the previous evening she'd sat with me; not saying anything, but just being there. Then, a little later on she'd led me to bed, remaining with me until I'd fallen asleep. I appreciated the fact that she hadn't forced me to talk, hadn't forced me to open up, but most of all; hadn't forced me to eat. All she'd done was be there, and somehow, that was the greatest gift in the entire world that she could have given me. I wasn't stupid; I knew that sooner rather than later she was going to ask me to talk about things, come to a decision as to what to do. However, having time to prepare myself for this, to decide how much I wanted to reveal, meant everything to me. I called the shots, and somehow, that made it a lot easier.

Once in the diagnosis room, I promptly curled up on the couch, seeing that House was already in the room. Suffering from a hangover, the last thing I wanted to do was be in work, but I was a professional and intended to stay that way. No matter how awful I felt. Trying to sound perky and awake, I smiled and uttered, "Morning, House."

He glanced up from his gameboy briefly, and mumbled incoherent words in reply. It was only when Chase and Foreman entered the room that he looked up, giving us his full attention.

A rare privilege.

"Any change in Hannah's condition?" Foreman asked, directing the question at House.

"Foreman… her name is Cameron! You've worked with her for years; you should know that by now!" At the confused look on Foreman's face, House gave a fake exasperated sigh. "And no, she's still just as skinny as she was yesterday."

Comprehension dawned upon Foreman, and he exchanged an awkward look with Chase. Evidently they didn't wish to get involved in this discussion; something I couldn't blame them for. Ignoring House's comments, I repeated Foreman's question. "So have there been any changes in Hannah's condition?"

House frowned. "Hannah? Who's Hannah?"

I rolled my eyes. "Our patient, House."

House looked puzzled for a moment and then all but shrieked, "Ohhh, the spawn! The search turned up nothing."

"How is she?" I persisted.

"Right, yeah, still the same, only a marginal improvement. No worse, aside from bloating of the stomach but hospital milk is kinda ew. Aside from that though we have nothing more to work with and are still lumbered with it unless her parent's decide they don't mind carrying her around with an oxygen tank attached to her for the rest of her life."

"Right. So… what now?" Chase piped up.

"We can just sit here and wait," House stated. "Or we can throw around some more diagnoses; try out a treatment or two."

"But we've already treated her for about five different things; we're running out of options!" Foreman argued.

"There's always something we've missed." I counter argued. "Isn't that the whole point of this department?"

"Well said Cameron." House gave me an approving nod, before lifting himself up from his chair and walking over to the whiteboard. "So… ideas people?"

Trying to ignore the fact that my vision has suddenly turned blurry, I tried to think of a possible cause. There were so many possibilities, each as unlikely as the next. Furthermore, I was finding it hard to run through the criteria for each illness, focus on the board in front of me, listen to House and manage to look alert all at the same time. What's more, I couldn't stop thinking about food; as per usual. Nothing had changed except that now, I wasn't alone in this situation. I had to remember that. I wasn't alone. I wasn't alone. I wasn't…

"Cameron!"

I jumped, hearing my name called. My head shot towards the noise, looking over to the left of me where House was standing. "Sorry, did you say something?" I tried to look composed.

"Away with the fairy's today aren't we?" He gave an audible sigh of complaint. "Possible diagnosis?"

Saying the first thing that came into my head I blurted out, "Uhhh lactose intolerance." When all I received were blank stares, I elaborated, "The intolerance to the lactose could cause swelling within her throat once she's been fed…"

"Except she's not been fed by bottle since she's been in here," House attempted to shoot my idea down.

"The swelling may not have subsided yet," I said stubbornly.

"Lactose intolerance causes bloating, but not swelling in the throat," Chase disagreed.

"Generally speaking, yes, but who's to say Hannah isn't an individual example? Besides which if her intolerance is that severe and it's still working it's way out of her system, it could explain why she isn't totally better yet. Anyway, she'd need a specific test to confirm it; it wouldn't show on the blood tests we've given her. She's tiny too so her body wouldn't be able to cope with the intolerance like a normal person."

He pondered this for a moment. "That's an obscure idea. I like it. Chase, go do a stool acidity test to confirm." He sounded upbeat, evidently in a good mood as he considered my answer a worthy one. "You should reward yourself with some toast."

Cringing at his words, I tried to stop my face from reddening. I would _kill_ for toast right now. Wait; what was I saying? I didn't eat toast! What was wrong with me, why did I suddenly want it? This wasn't good; not good at all. "I'll see you guys later." I said abruptly, once again not troubling to reply to House's sarcasm and hastily standing up. Woops bad idea… flashing lights. Willing myself to stay strong, I left the room without waiting for a sarcastic reply from House or curious questions from Chase or Foreman as to where I was going, which was to see Cuddy. I didn't want to be followed, watched, or for House to discover that Cuddy and I were more than just friends.

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	16. Chapter 16

**Would have posted this days ago but I'm in the middle of exams and didn't have time to go through and check before today! Anyway, here we go, and once again, thanks to Kyry and you guys. :-)**

**Fading Addiction Part Sixteen**

With a glance over my shoulder every now and then on the way to Cuddy's office, I cautiously made sure that none of my colleagues were behind me. I'd already decided that if I saw any of them then I'd make a detour to the bathroom, knowing that there was no way they'd follow me in there. Well, House probably would but if he did then I'd scream so loudly that security came running and spent a good fifteen minutes questioning him; giving me ample time to get away from him. Cruel, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and he wouldn't feel at all guilty about pulling a similar stunt on me. See, I could be smart too.

Satisfied that it hadn't been deemed necessary to track my every move, I took the few final steps that made it clear I wanted to see Cuddy. Hovering for a few moments, I considered whether to go as I noticed that her blinds were shut. Usually that indicated that she wanted privacy, but hopefully she wouldn't mind my interrupting her. I knocked lightly on the door, hearing her muffled voice say, "Yes?" Opening the door slowly, I peered around the corner, feeling a rush of relief flood me as I saw she was alone. Nibbling my lip nervously, I waited until she looked up and smiled, beckoning me to come in. Returning her smile I entered the plush office, shutting the door behind me.

"Hey, how's it going?" She asked, placing her pen down on the desk and giving me her full attention.

"Oh you know… the usual," I said vaguely.

She raised an eyebrow. "Good usual or bad usual?"

"Neither really." I shrugged my shoulders, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Now that I was here I didn't know what to say.

She nodded in reply. "So is this a social visit or has House already done something?"

Unsure of how to explain that I didn't really know why I was there, I stayed quiet, trying to formulate some kind of an answer inside my head. However, Cuddy seemed to take this as confirmation that House had already half killed someone. "Oh God," She winced. "What has he done now?"

"No; no it's fine. He hasn't done anything," I quelled her fears. "Well, he's made several digs at me already this morning but nothing out of the ordinary."

"What's he said?" Cuddy immediately asked.

"Ohh nothing really. Just a few comments on my weight," I laughed nervously, although if I was honest with myself his words did get to me, even if I was unwilling to show it. Cuddy's eyes narrowed, and I came to the conclusion that she was mad. Although the last thing I wanted to do was cause a big fuss, there was a small part of me that was secretly pleased she cared about me enough to want to protect me from hurtful comments. "Really, it was nothing," I said adamantly.

"He still needs to know where to draw the line," Cuddy sighed, evidently fed up of House's behaviour already. Not that I blamed her, it was only the morning; still plenty of time for him to cause trouble for her before the end of the day. What with trying to avoid clinic duty, carrying out risky procedures on patients or just being plain annoying by refusing to do any work; he still had several other ways of driving Cuddy insane.

"Really, just forget it," I insisted, walking towards her and placing a hand on her shoulder, feeling that her muscles were tense. Nevertheless, as soon as I made contact with her she relaxed, her face softened, and she broke out into a smile.

"Fine. But if he says anything in front of me then I'll have him doing triple clinic duty for a month," She grinned evilly.

Smirking at her threat, I ran my hand down her arm. "You busy this morning?"

"Not as much as I usually am," She placed a hand on top of mine, causing my skin to tingle from the connection. "Why, was there something you wanted?"

"Not really. I just don't have much to do at the moment and House… well when he was winding me up you were the only person I could think of going to." I felt myself blush at this confession. "And… you'll think I'm stupid for saying it but…" I allowed my voice to trail off. I suddenly found myself wanting to open up to her, but was scared of taking the actual step of doing so.

"Go on…" She prompted.

Biting the bullet, I made the decision just to say it. "I want toast," I blurted out.

Cuddy stared at me. "I'm sorry?"

"House made a comment about toast and it's making me want it," I stated dumbly. "That's weird, right?"

Cuddy looked at me blankly. "I'm not an expert, far from it, but…"

"But what?" I pressed.

"But maybe your body, your subconscious, is telling you that you need to eat. Sometimes cravings can be a sign that you're deficient in certain nutrients; which we already know you are," She paused, seemingly thinking carefully about what she was going to say. "Would it really be so bad if you _did_ eat toast?"

I stared at her, astonished that she could ask such a thing. "Well; yeah."

"Why?" She questioned.

I thought carefully for a few seconds, contemplating my answer. Why exactly would it be so bad? All I knew was that I had an intense fear of eating one piece, and was unable to picture myself eating just the one, knowing one would turn into two, two into three, and so on. Then I'd be fat, Cuddy wouldn't want me, everything would be all wrong again and I'd have nothing left but cravings for food. How did I say that to Cuddy? I couldn't.

I wouldn't.

"It just would," I muttered, refusing to meet her eye.

"Ok." She accepted my words, obviously not wishing to push me too hard. For this, I was grateful. "Allison?"

It was strange to have her calling me that. If this… thing between us developed, then we'd be on first name terms. To me, she was still Cuddy, though I knew she shouldn't be. Swallowing hard, I answered, "Lisa?"

She smiled slightly at how I addressed her, though it quickly faded from her face, making me realise she had something important to say. "Please don't be angry; just listen for a second. I think you should see a therapist. I'm not saying you have to do in-treatment, but talking to someone would be a big step. They can give you the necessary help, and it would be completely confidential. You can say what you want and no one need know."

"Unless I'm going to top myself," I joked.

Cuddy frowned, looking worried. "You're suicidal?"

I rolled my eyes. "Of course I'm not."

"Look, if you are it's ok, anorexia and suicide often go hand in hand…"

"I'm not going to kill myself!" I interrupted. "Forget I said anything, I was just trying to lighten the mood with a joke."

"Don't joke about things like that," She chastised. "It's not funny."

Feeling guilty, I moved to hug her. "Ok. I'm sorry, but it's just easier to make jokes you know?"

"I know it is, but it's hard for me to hear," She admitted, as she snuggled into my shoulder, indicating she accepted my apology. "Will you let me arrange a session with a therapist for you at some point this week?"

Though I was reluctant, I knew that I had to face my fears. "Fine, but I don't want anyone else knowing about it. Not yet anyway."

"I'm not saying a word to anyone. Except, and don't take this the wrong way, but I think you should see a nutritionist as well. Someone needs to help you work out a food plan; it's not a simple case of you being able to fend for yourself without outside intervention." She informed me carefully.

Though I could see her point, that didn't encourage me to do as she wanted without hesitation. I wasn't angry, but I wasn't exactly happy about her idea either. "I don't need someone making me eat foods I don't want to," I replied stubbornly.

She waved an arm, dismissing my words. "I know that, but are you honestly telling me you know how to make sure you're getting a balanced diet? There are so many things that you're susceptible to even if you are getting the nutrients you need. Refeeding syndrome for instance." When I still stayed silent, she clasped my hands and said, "I'm saying this because I want you to get better sweetheart, not worse."

Understanding her view, but not willing to agree yet, I squeezed her hands back as I said, "I'll consider it. Promise."

Seemingly satisfied with this, she smiled. "Good. Now, there's just one thing left to say Dr. Cameron."

"Oh?" I frowned as she addressed me formally.

She poked my arm playfully, saying light heartedly, "Get back to work!"

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	17. Chapter 17

**Again, thank you for the reviews. Rockingful, that's what you all are. And Kyry for beta-ing... you are a legend!**

**Oh and I'm glad you like the fact there's also a plot. Personally I find that fics with a plot make a better fic. Obviously there are exceptions but... well that was my reason for doing so, especially with a fic this long in** **length.**

**Fading Addiction Part Seventeen**

For a while, a while being a few days, things continued the way they had been. I'm not going to lie and say that I started to eat and suddenly I was all better; that wasn't the case. What I liked the most was that none of my control had been taken away and Cuddy hadn't pushed me to eat or checked up on me. Really, my life was the same. All that was different was that I knew things might be changing, for the better, very soon.

It wasn't a bed of roses; that much I will admit. Every morning when I woke up I dry retched. All day I kept swigging mouthwash to get rid of the rancid taste in my mouth. For that matter, the nights weren't exactly peachy either. By the end of the day I was so tired I literally had to crawl into bed. Then I couldn't sleep. Hungry. Always hungry. Throughout all this, I battled alone. I had my limits, and Cuddy seeing me like this was the last thing I wanted. There were times when I caught her looking at me, and I'm sure she knew that I wasn't really there, but wasn't in the position to do anything about it. She was still Dean, I still worked for House, and a sudden interest in each other would prove to be risky for the two of us. Furthermore, I wasn't stupid; now that I'd admitted to anorexia, I realised the implications on my health. There was every chance that I could drop dead of a heart attack at any moment, but no way, no matter what, was I going into hospital. Hopefully, therapy would be enough. It had to be; I was banking on it.

This was half the reason why I was sitting, waiting for an appointment with a Dr. Rachel Stone, but the other half of the reason was because I cared so much for Cuddy that I couldn't bear to lose her. I wasn't stupid; I knew I couldn't have anorexia and Cuddy. I had to make a choice. Therefore, I could only pray that being here was the right thing to do.

"Allison Cameron?"

I turned to see a blonde woman who looked to be roughly the same age as me, peering at me from behind the door I'd been staring at for the past ten minutes. For a few seconds I remained silent, unable to articulate any sound.

"Are you Allison Cameron?" she addressed me.

Regaining the use of my voice I answered, "Yes, I am." It was strange not to hear myself called "Dr. Cameron" or just "Cameron" which was how people referred to me most of the time. In addition to this, being the patient instead of the doctor felt strange, somehow unnatural. I had an inkling that this was only going to become weirder once I entered the room, and suddenly, I was apprehensive.

It seemed Dr. Stone realised this, as she smiled at me warmly. "Allison, it's ok to be nervous. Look, why don't you come in and we can just have a chat?"

"Have a chat" sounded so informal, like we'd be discussing the weather. Only we wouldn't; we'd be talking about _my_ issues, _my_ problems, _my_ eating disorder. So, getting up from my seat, I followed Dr. Stone through the door and sat in the seat she gestured towards. I fidgeted with my hands, feeling uncomfortable with the silence that clouded the room. It was a well lit room painted with neutral colours and furnished well, probably in order to make patients feel more welcome. At that precise moment in time, I could honestly say it didn't help at all, and no matter where I'd been, I was sure I'd feel just as nervous.

"Well Allison... it is ok if I call you Allison right?" She looked towards me from the seat opposite, waiting for my approval.

I was just on the verge of saying yes, when something within told me to shake my head. I did so, and at the frown I received from Doctor Stone, I realised she was looking for an explanation. "Most people call me Cameron," I explained. Normally it wouldn't bother me to be called Allison but that seemed somehow private. I could count on one hand the amount of people who addressed me as Allison; Cuddy being one of them. I didn't want to share anything personal with this therapist, and as I had to, a chosen name made it seem like part of me was still in control.

"Cameron it is then," she agreed, seeing no problem with my request. "And you can call me Rachel; I see no need for formalities."

I nodded at her words, wishing that the session would start. After all, the sooner it started, the sooner it would finish. "So I guess you're wondering why I'm here," I stated.

Rachel looked surprised that I'd come out and said that, but seemed to recover fairly quickly. She plastered a neutral expression on her face as she said, "Actually, Dr. Cuddy briefed me on the basics, so I do have a rough outline as to why you want these sessions. However, I stress that I know only the basics; nothing else. You'll have to fill in the gaps for me."

I asked curiously, "How much do you know?"

"That you have an eating disorder," she said bluntly.

I frowned. "And that's all you know?"

She looked at me sincerely. "That's all I know. Would you like to tell me more?"

I gave a nervous smile, unsure of how to start, where to begin. There was so much to say, but so little that I wanted to reveal. "I don't really know what to say," I confessed. "I know I have a problem, but admitting that to you isn't going to make it all better."

"Maybe not," she conceded. "But talking about the reasons behind it, discussing it in detail and figuring out ways we can get you to behave normally around food… that will help."

"Maybe," I acknowledged she might be right. "What do you want me to tell you?"

"Well, what type of eating disorder would you say you suffer from?" She asked.

I shrugged. "Cuddy thinks I'm anorexic."

"Dr. Cuddy?" She prompted.

I nodded.

"Do you agree with that?" She questioned me further.

"I think so," I said carefully. "I think she thinks it's a bigger problem than I do though. The thing is, I've been doing this…starving I mean, for so long. I don't know how to eat normally. Do I eat cereal for breakfast or just a piece of toast? Is it ok to skip lunch? What if I don't feel hungry?"

Rachel nodded. "The thing is; there's no right answer to any of those questions. It has to be a healthy balance. Take the matter of skipping lunch for example. Once in a while that's perfectly acceptable. Everyday? Probably not a good idea. However, if someone was to snack every few hours instead of eating lunch, then who's to say that's wrong? It's about finding what works for you."

I nodded, replying, "I guess."

"If it's alright Cameron, I'd like to leave the food side of things alone, maybe allow a nutritionist to sort those out? I'm not really trained in that area you see," she admitted.

Now that Rachel had mentioned it as well as Cuddy, I started thinking it was perhaps worth a go. If I hated it, I didn't have to go back right? I didn't have to eat everything I was told to? I was the one in control; it was ok. "I'll give it a go," I offered. "But if you don't want to talk about food then why the hell am I here?"

Rachel smiled. "You're a doctor, so I'm guessing you do realise what anorexia is."

"Yes," I said impatiently. "It's not about food. But the thing is, there's nothing in my past that anorexia suffers usually have. I wasn't abused. I had a happy childhood, lots of friends."

"They're just some typical examples, not always the case." Rachel informed me. "Tell me, are you happy now?"

I opened my mouth to automatically say yes, and then realised that for this session to actually work, I had to tell the truth. I said quietly, "No."

Rachel watched as I clenched my fists. "Why?" she asked gently.

"I feel fat. I hate the way I look, the way I feel." I said uncomfortably.

"But realistically, logically, can you not see that you're anything but fat? That you are in fact, noticeably underweight?" she questioned.

I shook my head.

"How does starving yourself make you feel any better?" she pressed.

"Numbs me." I mumbled.

She nodded. "And you like feeling numb?"

"Numb and in control." I elaborated slightly. It's better than feeling pain." I was starting to feel a little more awkward.

"What makes you feel the pain?" she prompted.

"Everything." I said shakily. "Losing a patient, being rejected, making a mistake. God, even looking into the fucking mirror!" The last thing I wanted to do was cry in front of a stranger, but if she kept on with the personal questions I'd be in floods of tears, I knew it.

Rachel leaned forward, catching my eye. "It's ok Cameron, I know how hard this is. For what it's worth, you're doing really well. Why don't we discuss what makes you feel good about yourself?"

"Nothing," I said adamantly.

"Really?" she persisted. "Nothing?"

I thought for a few moments, before I realised there was something. No, not just something, two _somethings_. "Well, curing a patient. That can make me feel good."

"And that's something you do on a regular basis right?" she asked.

"Yeah," I replied, racking my brains for an example. And then it hit me; _Hannah Phelps_. Someone who I'd forgotten about until now, but I'd been right, she was lactose intolerant. Begrudgingly, Foreman and Chase has praised my suggestion, perhaps realising that I was actually of use. It had been a long time since I felt I'd done well. So, I explained, "There was this baby girl, Hannah. She couldn't breathe properly, and no one could figure out what was wrong with her. As a long shot I suggested lactose intolerance, which really was a million to one chance, but all other avenues had been explored and… I was right."

Rachel smiled. "So because of you a baby lived. You know if that were me, I'd feel pretty damn happy."

"I had help from others though," I stated. "They helped to dismiss other possibilities."

"You were still a big part of solving the problem though." Rachel dismissed my putdown. "Anything else that makes you feel good?"

I took a deep breath before answering. "Cuddy."

Rachel looked at me curiously. "Why is that?"

Honestly, one hundred percent truthfully I confided, "I don't know."

Rachel seemed to consider her words carefully. "Maybe you'd like to think about that, and we could perhaps discuss it at some point in the future?"

"Sure," I agreed awkwardly.

"I'd also like to talk about why you think you developed anorexia," she stated.

"I don't know why," I replied, frustrated that she thought I had all the answers. Wasn't she supposed to be the one who told me why I was like this?

Sensing that I was annoyed with her questions, Rachel added softly, "I'm not expecting you to know all this straight away. I just want you to consider what may be the reasons behind it. You hold the key to unlocking why you're like this Cameron, even if you don't realise it yet."

Though I saw the truth in what she was saying, I couldn't bring myself to agree with her. At the end of the day, delving into reasons as to why I was this way was the very last thing I wanted to be doing.

Problem was; I knew I had to.


	18. Chapter 18

**Thank you everyone; love you all so much! Again, kudos to Kyry and everyone who's left reviews!**

**Fading Addiction Part Eighteen**

The question that Rachel had asked me about Cuddy struck a chord with me. It had felt so natural to admit that Cuddy made me feel good; better than I'd felt in a long time. Though I'd been asked several more questions after that one, it was the only question that I felt had truly made an impact on me from the session. This in turn brought to mind many other questions, though I wasn't sure that I'd be able to share them with anyone; even Rachel as my therapist. In short, they were far too personal to reveal, and I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to answer them myself. For example, would I have developed anorexia had I developed a relationship with Cuddy sooner? Would Cuddy and I have ever entered a relationship were it not for my anorexia? But most importantly of all, would my relationship with Cuddy be my ultimate saviour?

Though I knew it was stupid to put faith into a relationship saving me from an eating disorder, I couldn't help but be hopeful that it'd make anorexia easier to fight. That, fundamentally, was the main change in my thinking. No longer did I seek the comfort of starvation, but looked for salvation in Cuddy. Inside I didn't feel ready to face the recommended 2000 calories a day need to survive, but maybe trying to work towards managing to eat just a little would help. More importantly, it just might be enough to keep me alive until I was better.

_If_ I got better.

After all, there was always the chance that I'd succumb to this. That my heart would just stop. That my body would give up and I'd just _die._There was a time when I wasn't sure if I minded death; it wasn't like living was so much damn fun was it? Now though, I wanted to wake up, breathe, feel like there was something to look forward to. I so badly wanted Cuddy to be my reason for living, and not the anorexia. Anorexia was a destroyer, and quite frankly, Cuddy was anything but that.

That's what I told myself, hours after the therapy session as I sat in front of the plate of salad. No dressing, just lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber and onion. Healthy, basic, but more than I'd eaten and _digested_in months. I stared, examining it, moving it around the plate, wondering what the first mouthful would taste like. Would I have to spit it out? If I did manage to eat it, could I keep it down? Inside I was so scared that not only would I not be able to stop eating once I'd taken the first mouthful, but that I'd purge and my heart, finally, would give up. More than ever I wanted to just eat it; there'd only be about a hundred calories in the entire salad anyway. However, the more I willed myself to eat, the more stressed out I became when I couldn't take the first bite. Why couldn't I just _eat_? Why?

Feeling slightly sick now, I shut my eyes. It felt as if I was trying to achieve the impossible by sitting in front of a plate of food. Nevertheless, if I couldn't even cope with a simple salad, how would I ever be able to progress onto real food? Food like potatoes, sandwiches, pasta and rice? Carbohydrates. Fat. Sugars. It wasn't going to happen; not in a million years. The thought of being like this forever, until death finally took me, sickened me to the bone. It was this thought that gave me the power, psyched me up so that with a sharp breath in, I placed the food into my mouth. Carefully I chewed it, not liking the watery taste, but coping. As I swallowed, I willed my body to accept it, and for my mind to stay calm. There. Done. I took a sip out of the glass of water beside me, then took a second mouthful, chewing it the same way as I had the first, swallowing in it apprehensively, but hopeful. Once I'd managed this, I took a third. A fourth, followed by a fifth, until I felt steady enough to stop counting and just to focus on clearing the plate.

Mission Accomplished.

Though I was proud of myself for managing to finish the salad (in no less than an hour) I couldn't help but feel like I'd put on about two stone in weight. Though I knew it was a bad idea, I walked into the bathroom, stepped onto the scales. I'd put on a pound. Scared, I contemplated throwing up, but realised that I'd come so far; it would be stupid to give up now. Besides, it was probably just water weight, and it was the only thing I'd eaten today. I'd be fine. All I had to do was forget about food for the time being, focus on something else, like maybe watching some television.

Just as I was about to curl up on the couch, the phone rang. Padding over to it, I picked up, hoping it would be Cuddy. "Hello?" I spoke.

"Hey, it's me," So it was Cuddy. "Just wondering how things went today?"

"Ok. Well, as ok as a therapy session can be," I said lightly.

"Do you… want to talk about it?" She asked hesitantly.

"I don't know what there is to talk about," I answered honestly. "You pretty much know everything we talked about today. Yes there's some things I admitted but, and don't take this the wrong way, but I'd rather not tell you."

"That's fine; it really is. I just wanted to make sure you were ok," she said, concern evident in her voice.

Trying not to smile too much at the thought of Cuddy worrying about _me_, I said, "There's something else I did want to tell you though."

"What's that?" She enquired.

I declared, "I've just managed to eat a plate of salad."

Cuddy hesitated for a moment before saying, "That's good?"

Frowning, though I knew she couldn't see me I questioned, "You don't think it is?"

"Don't get me wrong Allison, that's really great. But don't you think you should try and eat something else? You're still going to lose weight eating just one salad in a day; you do realise that?"

"Of course I realise that!" I exclaimed angrily. "But it's progress for God's sake! I usually struggle to eat a few leaves of lettuce, but I sat there, and managed to finish an entire plate of salad."

"Don't get upset," Cuddy pleaded. "I'm just worried that it's not enough." When I remained silent she added quietly, "I care about you too much to lose you."

"I'm not upset," I lied. "I just thought you'd be pleased."

Cuddy tried to explain, "I am. I promise. If you say that's progress, then that's really amazing news."

Unsure if she even believed what I was saying, I searched for reassurance. "You do believe that I ate that salad don't you?"

"Yes," she said solemnly. "Honestly, I do. I know you're trying, and that's all that matters right now."

Allowing myself to smile, I paused. Then, after a few seconds I stated, "I miss you."

"Miss you too," Cuddy replied softly.

I smiled even more at her words. "See you tomorrow?"

"Definitely." She said instantly. "Night sweetheart."

Grinning at the fact she'd called me sweetheart, I replied "Night night." Hanging up the phone and collapsing onto the sofa, suddenly on top of the world, despite everything.

* * *


	19. Chapter 19

**Nearing the end of le ficcage now. Still a few parts to go though, so don't worry! Once again thanks to you guys and Kyry. :-)**

**Fading Addiction Part Nineteen**

Arriving in work the next day, I immediately made an appointment to see a nutritionist. In a way I was even more apprehensive about this because someone would be telling me what sort of foods I should be eating whereas in my session with Rachel, I just talked. Rachel didn't tell me that I should do something differently; she listened. Ok so she didn't encourage my avoidance of food, but she didn't dictate, "You should be eating this, this and this" either. Deep down I knew that a nutritionist was exactly the sort of person to get me back on track physically speaking, but mentally it was going to be really tough.

We didn't yet have another case after Hannah, and so once more I was at a loss regarding what to do. House was moaning about clinic duty as usual, and quite frankly, driving everyone insane.

"I just don't see why I have to do twice as much as everyone else does!" He whined.

"It's only for a month House, and you deserve it. Moaning about it isn't going to change the fact that you have to do it," Foreman responded as he walked into the room.

"It's not fair though. Just because Cuddy's funbags haven't been seeing any action lately she takes it out on me!" House protested.

I couldn't help but smirk at his words, no matter how much I wanted not to. However, I was curious as to what he'd done now to warrant extra clinic duty. "What did you do, House?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said stubbornly.

Foreman rolled his eyes. "He paid a patient five hundred dollars of Wilson's money to take over his clinic duty," he explained.

Grinning at the thought of this, I replied, "And Cuddy found out?"

"Only because that idiot didn't notice some kid had meningitis. I mean everyone knows the symptoms for it these days but no, Mr Half-a-brain gave mommy some painkillers and told her to take her little boy home."

Now appalled, I asked, "Is he going to be ok?"

House shrugged.

Foreman answered for him, "Ask him the same question when the kid isn't on a life support machine."

"House you really need to grow up and just do your clinic duty," I chastised him, though inside I knew it would do no good.

"Since when did you start caring about whether I do clinic duty or not?" He shot back.

"I don't!" I defended myself. "But it isn't fair on Cuddy; she has enough to do without running around after you on a daily basis."

He muttered, "Bla bla bla..."

"You're acting like a child!" I exclaimed.

"And you're acting like Cuddy's biggest fan!" He all but yelled. Then, lowering his voice he added, "Why is that?"

I sighed, deliberately ignoring his question, not knowing how to answer.

He smirked at the silence. "Rather intriguing if you ask me. Something tells me that I need to do a little... investigating."

Then a voice came from the door, "The only thing you need to do is get your ass down to the clinic before you're doing double time there for two months instead of one."

Cuddy.

Dramatically, House sighed. "Must you ruin my fun?"

"Yes." Cuddy snapped, in the tone that let House know she wasn't to be messed with.

"Fine!" He stood, slowly limping towards the door. Before he exited he turned to me, and said ominously, "I will find out Cameron, I always do."

Once he'd left, Cuddy asked, "What is he talking about?"

"Basically I told him he should do his clinic duty to save you running around after him and he's wondering why I'm your, and I quote, "biggest fan" all of a sudden." I informed her.

"Oh!" Cuddy seemed taken aback for a moment, but then a smile appeared on her face and she said, "Right well, I need a word with you Dr. Cameron. Shall we go to my office?"

I returned the smile and nodded, saying goodbye to Foreman as I left the room. I followed Cuddy to her office slightly behind her, not quite able to keep up with her pace. I was feeling rather weak, mainly because I hadn't felt able to face the trauma of trying to eat breakfast, and my stomach was cramping inside. Trying to ignore this as I entered Cuddy's office, it helped take my mind off things when she hugged me the moment the door was closed. Allowing myself to relax into her arms, I buried my head into her neck, feeling warmth spread through my body.

"Thank you for defending me to House," she whispered as she released me from the hug.

"It's ok," I told her, as I turned to make sure the blinds were closed. Seeing that they were I faced her once again, this time placing a gentle kiss on her lips. "Thanks for everything you've done for me."

She frowned. "Such as?"

I shrugged. "Making me realise I have a problem. I'd still be in denial if it wasn't for you."

Cuddy smiled, though it was a rather sad one. "Remember, that's the first step. Now it's a case of getting you better."

"Lisa, there's always the chance that I won't get better," I said gently. "It's all very well standing and talking but when it comes to actually eating, it's like a block. You know, it took me an entire hour to eat the salad yesterday and like you said, that isn't going to make me put on weight."

"But you have to think positively," she protested, in contrast to her opinion yesterday. Maybe she'd realised how much I needed her to believe in me. "You need to fight this, and I believe that you can beat it. You're stronger than anorexia, I know you are."

Though she sounded determined, I wasn't so sure. My stomach was still hurting and I felt shaky. At this very moment in time, it seemed that the anorexia was stronger than ever. Trying to keep my voice level, I said, "Do you mind if I sit down a minute? I'm just feeling a little tired."

"Of course," Cuddy said, a concerned expression on her face. She led me over to the couch and sat me down. "Are you sure that's it?"

Begrudgingly I admitted, "Well, I've got stomach cramps and I'm feeling shaky, but I'll be fine."

Cuddy took a deep breath. "You're going to hate me for saying this, but maybe you shouldn't be in work right now."

My first reaction was to freak out and yell that I needed to work; it was the only thing keeping my mind occupied other than food. However, I quickly realised that it wasn't the only thing I had to think about now that Cuddy was there, and maybe, just maybe, some time off wouldn't be so bad. "Actually, I think you're kind of right," I agreed with her. "You've been right about a lot of things. You know, this morning I made an appointment to see a nutritionist. I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to be eating and when... I need someone to help me."

"I'm glad, really I am," she smiled at me.

"Look, are you sure you're ok about me taking some time off?" I asked worriedly, returning to what we'd previously been discussing.

She exclaimed, "Of course I am!"

"Good," I said resolutely. "I'm not capable of doing my job properly like this."

Cuddy stroked the side of my face. "You don't have to take an endless amount of time off. Just a month for now, then if you're stronger, or you need more time, at the end of the month we can review the situation."

Knowing that a month was a realistic amount of time for progress, I accepted. "Ok,"

"I'll fill out the paperwork, you just need to sign it," She informed me. "I'll record it as stress if you'd rather, so it's just between us?"

Touched by the fact she would do this for me, I replied, "Thank you. But even if you have it recorded as that, I'd like to tell House and the team the truth, I owe it to them."

"Are you sure? You know what House is like at keeping secrets," she warned.

"He won't spread this around. He'll say something to Wilson but that's it. Besides, you discussed me with him before, he'll put two and two together and figure it out. He's House, remember?" I reasoned.

"You have a point," she conceded. "Are you going to tell them now or would you rather I did it for you?"

I sighed, "Thanks for the offer but I'd rather do it myself. I'm feeling a bit more with it so I'll go now if that's ok with you?"

"That's fine. I'll just sort out this paperwork for you to sign, so will you come back here before you leave?" she asked.

"Sure." I smiled.

"One other thing," She grabbed my arm as I got up to leave. "Will you come round to mind this evening? I'll pick you up so you don't have to drive."

Heart racing, the smile on my face widened. "Sure. I'd ask if you wanted my address but you've been to mine before; albeit uninvited both times..."

She smiled apologetically. "Yeah, sorry about that. I had to get your address from your hospital file. It was either that or ask House, and that would have lead to awkward questions."

"Which he's now asking," I groaned.

Cuddy laughed, "Don't worry about House; I can handle him. If he says anything to you now just ignore him."

"Will do," I promised, hugging her then walking towards the door. "Back soon."

Now for the task of telling everyone exactly why I was taking time off. Above all it was going to be humiliating for me, and never before had I hated anorexia quite as much as I did at that moment.


	20. Chapter 20

**Just two parts to go after this… so time to start the countdown. ;) Credit to Kyry for putting up with me and beta-ing for all this time!**

**Ryuuseikan, I couldn't answer your questions via pm as you're anon so I'll do so here. The Dr. Stone mentioned as a therapist in the show was a complete coincidence. Wow, thanks for pointing it out! As for your second question; I remember that quote. It has nothing to do with my writing this fic, but I can see how you may have thought that. Let's just call them lucky coincidences, eh? ;) **

**Fading Addiction Part Twenty**

"House, will you just _listen_?" For the past five minutes I'd been trying to get House to stop watching that damn television of his; to no avail. I'd already told Chase and Foreman I had an announcement to make, and they were sitting eagerly in anticipation, waiting for me to speak. House on the other hand seemed oblivious to the fact that I was in the room. Starting to lose my patience, I yelled, "House!"

"Ok, ok, sheesh!" he exclaimed. "Don't shout too loudly or Cuddy is going to realise I'm not down in the clinic."

I shot back, "Well do me a favour and pay attention to what I have to say, and then I won't have to shout!"

Grumpily, House switched off the television and lifted his head to show he was actually doing as I wanted him to. "Make it quick Cameron."

"Aren't you supposed to be down in clinic, House?" Wilson asked as he walked through the door and took a seat next to House. Sighing inwardly, I decided to bite the bullet and say what I had to anyway. The first thing House would do was run to Wilson to gossip, so at least this way Wilson knew what was the truth and what House was embellishing to make sound more interesting.

"Shut up," House told him sarcastically. "We're supposed to be listening to Cameron."

Ignoring the sarcasm and fidgeting with my hands, I stated nervously, "There's something you all need to know."

Immediately House opened his mouth. "You're having sex with Cuddy?"

"No," I gave him a dirty look. Well, it wasn't technically a lie; we weren't having sex. Not yet. "Any other stupid guesses?"

House put on his mock thinking face. "Hmmm. Ooh ooh I know! You're anorexic!"

Taken aback by the way he'd so easily spoken the word aloud, I had to decide what to say in reply; and quickly. There was absolutely no point in denying it when it was the truth, and so, resolutely I replied, "Yes."

For a moment, complete and utter silence surrounded the room. Even House was surprised by my admission, reading my facial expression and realising that no, I wasn't being sarcastic. Wilson looked awkwardly down at the floor, unable to look me in the eye. Perhaps he felt out of place surrounded by the team who knew me so well, or at least thought they did. Chase stared at me as though I were a madwoman, someone he no longer recognised. As for Foreman; well who knew what he was thinking? Unreadable, he too stared at me, though without Chase's horrified expression upon his own face.

"I'm taking time off," I stated. "Cuddy's given me a month to be exact but it could be more." I let them know indirectly that I'd already discussed this with Cuddy.

When they all continued to sit in silence I added, "So if no one has anything to say, I'll be off." I gave them all once last glance, and made my way towards the door. A voice called me back.

"Cameron?"

I turned to see Foreman standing behind me. Locking eyes with me, he spoke solemnly. "I hope you work things out for yourself. You're a good doctor, a good person; you should always remember that." Then, taking a step towards me he locked me in a bear hug, his way of showing me he cared. When we broke apart, Chase stepped forward, he himself wrapping me up in an embrace, though his was slightly gentler.

"Get better, Cameron. And uhh, well if, if you need anything..." His voice trailed off, but his insinuations were clear. If I needed him; he was there. Though I was surprised considering his immediate reaction, I was also touched by his behaviour.

"Thank you," I said, directing my gratitude at both Foreman and Chase. For all their faults, for everything each had done to hurt me over the years we'd worked together, they'd taken it pretty well. They had been _nice_. Nice, but not condescending, pitying or disappointed in me. Moving away, they exited the room before me, leaving me alone with House and Wilson.

"See you in a month then," I said, bravely facing House. Inside, I wondered how I could ever have had feelings for him, this emotionless person sitting before me, saying nothing. I left the room, heading back towards Cuddy's office, intending on signing the paperwork. I'd walked halfway down the corridor when I felt a hand on my shoulder, gently turning me back.

"Wow, you really are sick," House said, stood in front of me. Well, I assumed he was; my eyes were still trying to focus, the sudden movement making me dizzy. "The efficient and speedy Cameron I knew would have already arrived at Cuddy's office by now. I just caught you up no problem."

"Is this your pathetic attempt at telling me you care, House? The fact you've noticed I walk as slowly as an old fucking woman?" I knew I shouldn't get angry, but I really couldn't help it.

House, still holding my arm and keeping me steady said, "Actually I'd say you walk as slow as a cripple but aside from the fact it's insulting to me... well you're not really in the mood for my humour are you?"

My vision now nearly focused, I said in a stronger voice, "No... no I'm not."

"Figures. Guess the little energy you have goes into staying upright, not laughing at me right?" He made another attempt at conversation.

"I guess. Look, what is this House? You didn't say anything back then and now you're speaking to me in what can only be described as nice by your standards." Confronting him was the only thing I could think to do, not understanding why he was behaving so strangely towards me.

"I didn't say anything back then because the others were there," he admitted.

"You usually like an audience," I informed him.

"Thought this might be a little awkward to say in front of Chase," he told me. "I just wanted to say that… well that anytime the old Cameron feels like coming back then I'm game for another date."

I almost laughed. _Almost. _"You have to be kidding," I paused, considering how exactly to word my thoughts, realising exactly what was going on here. "House, you don't want to date me; you never have. This is you in your own narcissist way thinking that somehow, you've made poor little Cameron anorexic and for some insane reason, actually wanting to fix it. Why do you even care House, normally you solve the puzzle and get bored. Why give a damn about fixing _me_?"

Ignoring my question, he responded with one of his own. "Did you ever consider the possibility that maybe I want to date you?"

"No," I said firmly. "You don't. And for the record, I'm not like... like this because of anything you've done. Believe it or not, this isn't about _you_."

He raised his head slightly, his eyes burning into mine. "Then what is it about?"

Though I considered not answering him, I decided to indulge him with an indirect reply. "It's about emotion House. The one thing that you don't understand; and never will."

He opened his mouth to reply, when there was the click of heels behind me. Cuddy appeared next to me, her face expressing curiosity. "Everything alright Cameron?"

"It's fine," I replied, giving her a brief glance. I was too scared to look into her eyes directly in front of House, worried that I might give our relationship away.

"I didn't know where you were so I brought the papers for you to sign when I came looking for you," She passed them over to me. "If you just sign them quickly now then you can be on your way."

Smiling, I took the pen she was offering me. Leaning awkwardly on my one hand, I shakily signed the papers. "Sorry, it's a bit scruffy but there's no desk round here to lean on," I offered in explanation.

"Jeez... I could have forged your signature better than that," House mocked me, back to his usual self.

Throwing yet another dirty look at him, I made it clear that I wasn't impressed by him. As Wilson once again waltzed up to us and started speaking to House, I looked towards Cuddy and said, "I'm off then."

She smiled at me, making me want to throw my arms around her and bury my head in her shoulder, forgetting about everything if only for a brief few minutes. I resisted, knowing House would immediately sense the change between us. However, Cuddy didn't seem to care about this, and she swept me up in her arms, holding my body to her so that I was pressed against her chest. My lips brushed against her neck and she whispered in my ear, "See you soon Al."

The conversation which House had been having with Wilson stopped, as he moved towards us, frowning slightly. "What did you just call her?"

"Excuse me?" Cuddy replied, taken aback by his question.

"You just called her Al," He accused. "Since when have you been on first name; albeit shortened first name terms?"

"I really don't know what you're talking about," Cuddy denied vehemently.

"Of course it could be entirely innocent but then... you wouldn't deny it if it was," House mused.

"House, what are you going on about?" Wilson asked, exasperated by the fact he didn't have a clue what was going on.

Ignoring Wilson's question, House stated, "You're sleeping together."

"What?!" I exclaimed. Feigning complete shock was the only thing I could think to do.

"It explains everything," House leaned towards me. "Why you're suddenly defending Cuddy. Why she's calling you Al. My God it even explains why she just held you so dearly to her funbags!"

"Or maybe this is about something else," I hissed. "Like the fact you can't stand that I just rejected your proposition for a date!"

"He asked you on a date?" Cuddy asked, her voice dangerously low, the way it got when she was about to lose her temper.

Though House appeared shocked that I revealed this, he quickly recovered. "Jealous, Cuddy?"

"It was so eloquently put too," I continued, ignoring him. "He's _game for another date_, apparently."

"Oooh I'd be quiet if I were you, Cameron," He said sarcastically. "Dr. Cuddy here looks as if she'd about to freak out on me for trying to steal her precious girl."

"Or maybe Dr. Cuddy is about to _freak out _because the first thing you do after you've spent God knows' how long tormenting your employee about her weight when she clearly needed help, is to ask her out on a date! Not to mention the fact that a kid is still on life support because of you, or that you're supposed to be in clinic, or that you've hacked into the hospital mainframe for about the tenth time in as many days!" Cuddy yelled at him, madder than I'd ever seen her before.

"Yeah yeah Cuddy, keep telling yourself that," House said mockingly.

Throughout all this, Wilson stared, dumbfounded, at what was taking place before his eyes. Stuttering he spoke, "Right well, I'll be off then..."

"Take _him_ with you," Cuddy barked. Then, softening her tone of voice she added, "I'll see you, _Cameron._"

Thinking that she might be mad with me, I stared after her as she walked away, back to her office. Then, going in the same direction as her, I called after her, not wanting to leave things the way they were, knowing I'd drive myself crazy worrying until I saw her that evening. "Cuddy?"

She turned to me, walking back in my direction. "Yes?"

"I just... just wanted to make sure..." I lowered my voice. "We're ok aren't we?"

"We're fine," She smiled. "House infuriates me, I'm not angry with you."

Returning her smile, relief flooded through me.

"Hey Cameron!" I heard House's voice screech from down the corridor. As both Cuddy and I turned to face him, he added, "Ask Cuddy for some food sex, it's waaaay fun!"

"I'll kill him," Cuddy groaned. "_Kill _him."

* * *


	21. Chapter 21

Thank yooou for the reviews, and thanks to my beta, Kyry. :-) Penultimate part... enjoy!

**Fading Addiction Part Twenty One**

That evening couldn't come quickly enough for me. I'd spent the entire day laying down, restless with no energy, but excited about seeing Cuddy later on. Though I was apprehensive about how things would go, I was hopeful that for once we wouldn't end up arguing. For my part, I planned on speaking to Cuddy respectfully, and make a special effort to stay calm and not fire spiteful words at her when she tried to give me advice.

From when she picked me up at my apartment, through the entire journey back to hers, to when we sat together in her lounge; I managed it. However, then came the dreaded question, which though I tried to kid myself wouldn't be asked, eventually was.

"Are you hungry?"

Immediately, I ripped my eyes away from Cuddy's, trying to figure out the best answer to the question.

"Ok, maybe I should put it a different way. Do you think maybe you should eat something?" she asked me apprehensively.

"I don't know if I can..." I admitted, trying to keep my voice level.

Cuddy turned my head so that once again I faced her. "Do you think you could try?" She paused and then added, "For me?"

I swallowed hard, not wanting to ruin a potentially good evening. "I'm scared to."

"Why?" she asked gently.

"I don't..." I almost shut myself off; before the guilt hit me. Here was Cuddy, making an effort, trying to help me. By keeping things to myself I was not only making myself sicker, but potentially ruining this thing that Cuddy and I had developing between us. And so, taking a deep breath, I forced myself to speak. "If I eat, then that means I'm taking in calories. That's going to... to make me fat. I don't want to put on weight. If those scales tell me I'm putting on weight, I don't think I'll be able to cope."

"Eating is going to make you _you_ again," Cuddy said firmly. "And as for your scales; throw them out. The nutritionist can keep an eye on your weight; it isn't something you should be obsessing over."

"I can't help it," I defended myself.

"I know," She soothed. "But you need to start putting on weight before you get any worse. Gaining will get you better."

"Better physically; not mentally," I argued.

"If you don't eat," Cuddy whispered, leaning in towards me. "You are going to die."

"I know that," I said, willing myself not to get upset and turn the evening into something out of a horror movie. "And I don't want to die. I want to be here, with you." I clasped her hands in mine, trying to show her that I was here, I was with her.

"You can't have both," she spoke quietly again. "I'm not giving you an ultimatum, that's not going to help anything. What I am trying to do is show you that it's ok to eat." Raising her voice slightly, speaking at a normal level she added, "Another thing to consider is perhaps taking vitamins? Zero calories and they could really help with your deficiencies."

I nodded. "Yeah, I suppose."

Tracing a finger down my cheek she added, "And sweetie a few pieces of toast won't make you fat, why don't you just have some?"

Not knowing what else to do, I shrugged. Taking this as a yes, Cuddy smiled at me and exited to the kitchen, leaving me alone. The moment she was gone I couldn't hold back the tears any longer, and quietly, I began to cry. There was no way I could do this. I just _couldn't_. I was kidding myself that things were improving, that I was strong enough to fight this. I was weak, and I always would be.

"Right, it's wholemeal bread so it's healthy, and I've left them plain for you, so there's nothing..." Cuddy had entered the room again, but stopped talking the moment she saw that I was upset. "Allison?"

Wiping my eyes, I looked up at her, forcing a smile. "I'm ok, really."

Placing the tray on the coffee table, Cuddy sat beside me, wrapping her arm around me. "No you're not. Come on, it's ok to cry." She pulled me towards hers, allowing me to cling on tightly, needing her to shield me from the food, if only for a few brief minutes.

"I'm sorry," I sniffed, moving away from her and attempting to pull myself together.

"Don't be," she insisted. "You've nothing to apologise for."

"I should be stronger than this!" I exclaimed, frustrated. "It's just toast for God's sake!" Adrenaline pumping through my veins, with determination I reached over, picking up and placing the tray in my lap. "Just toast," I muttered, staring at the three pieces before me.

Shakily, I lifted up a piece, examining it. Cuddy was right, there was nothing on it. Just plain, wholemeal bread. I nibbled at the corner, conscious of the fact that Cuddy was watching me. I'd always hated people watching me eat. However, I tried to ignore the fact that she was sitting next to me, and pretended I was alone. Just me and the toast.

Three pieces.

Then two.

Just half a piece left.

"I can't eat anymore," I gasped, my stomach feeling full, swollen. It was extremely painful, sensitive to the solid food that hadn't been digested in far, far too long.

Though she'd remained silent since I'd began to eat the toast, Cuddy now spoke aloud. "That's fine, you've done really well." She took the tray from me, placing a kiss on my cheek. "I'm just going to take this to the kitchen."

Straight away she came back, returning to her seat. "How are you feeling?"

Bluntly I replied, "Like hell. I'm in pain, I feel bloated, and just... ugly."

"The pain and bloating is to be expected and as for your last comment, you're not," She countered.

"You're just saying that to be nice," I disagreed.

"If I was just saying it to be nice, then I wouldn't be doing this," she stated, pulling me towards her for a kiss. Our lips clashed, and though I was scared to be kissing her so soon after eating, when she began running her fingers through my hair, nibbling on my lower lip and pressing her chest into mine, I soon relaxed. Eventually, reluctantly she pulled away groaning, "Do you believe me now, Dr. Cameron?"

"Maybe," I said hoarsely. "Why did you stop?"

The mood changing, she told me, "We need to talk."

Sighing, I begged, "Can we chat later? I don't want to kill the mood with my issues."

"You won't be," she insisted. "Al, you need to open up. There's so much we need to talk about, including things other than your eating disorder."

"Like what?" I frowned.

"House and Chase." She informed me.

"Ummm, what about them?" I asked confused.

"Look, I'm just going to come right out and say this. Do you still have feelings for either of them?" She said, hiding any emotion from her voice.

Incredulous, I replied, "I can't believe you'd even contemplate the thought that I..."

"Just answer the question," she interrupted.

"No," I said vehemently. "Chase was just a fuck buddy and House... House was a crush. Nothing more, nothing less. And note; I've used the past tense." When she still looked unconvinced I added, "I would never have accepted his date, even if you and I weren't together."

Cuddy looked surprised. "We're together?"

Worried I'd overstepped the mark, I said hastily, "Well I just assumed that we were making a..."

"Stop," she interrupted me again, though this time she was smiling. "I want to be with you."

"I always thought you were crazy," I said, shaking my head.

"Yeah. Not as crazy as you though," she teased. "You do realise that I'm the devil incarnate according to House?"

"House is an ass," I said grumpily, remembering his parting shot earlier on.

"I punished him for what he said, you know," she said, smirking at my expression. "He now has double clinic duty for two months instead of one."

Returning the smirk, I said, "Serves him right."

Cuddy snuggled into me. "Definitely."

We sat in silence for a few moments, whilst I racked my brains for something to say. I didn't want to bring up the topic of anorexia, but I had no idea what else there was to talk about. Unless I opened up about my past, my suspicions as to why I was the way I was. It was something I'd given some thought to, and though I still couldn't say for definite why anorexia had chosen me as its' victim, I had some ideas.

"Can I talk to you about something?" I asked, apprehensive.

"Of course you can," Cuddy insisted, stretching out and resting her hand against my stomach, rubbing it gently. Strangely enough, though I'd only just eaten, this didn't bother me too much. A good sign, for sure.

"My therapist asked me to think about why I'm anorexic," I confided.

"Oh?" She said lightly. "And have you?"

"I guess so," I said in reply. "And I don't know for definite why; I wasn't abused as a child, my mum didn't have issues with food, I didn't have a messed up childhood."

"Then what?" She asked gently, still holding me closely.

Allowing the words to leave my mouth for the first time, I admitted, "When I was younger, I didn't... I didn't connect with anyone. I got on with my mum well, I had friends. I was popular. But for so much of the time it was like I was just _there_. If I was upset, I kept it to myself. I had to be perfect, and problems weren't part of that ideal."

Cuddy remained quiet, processing this information. Then she asked tentatively, "Was your dad around?"

I twirled a piece of hair around my finger nervously. "Yeah. He's still with mum now."

"Do you get on with him?" She pressed me for information.

"We talk," I told her. "But we're not really close. Truthfully, I was never good enough for him. If I got an A in school, it should have been an A star. He wouldn't actually shout at me, but he'd do the whole, "Next time maybe you should revise harder" thing."

"Don't you think that maybe that could be part of why you're like this?" She asked.

"I considered it," I said reluctantly. "But to be honest, I chose to do this to myself. Blaming other people isn't going to change the fact that I'm anorexic."

"No, but talking about it might help you get better," Cuddy told me softly.

"If only," I mused aloud. "If only."


	22. Chapter 22

**Guys, the final part has arrived. There's a few things I'd like to say to you all. Firstly, to everyone who has ever left feedback; thank you. You're all amazing and every single one of you has left constructive criticism or praise, which I appreciate! This is probably the hardest fic I've ever had to write for so many reasons (which I won't bore you with!) but it's definitely been the most worthwhile.**

**There should be a sequel, at least, I've planned for there to be. Not straight away as I need a break and have to work on a few ideas, but at some point in the future:-) Also, a special thanks to Kyry for being the most amazing beta and friend!**

**Lastly, if anyone wants to get in touch for whatever reason, doesn't feel comfortable leaving feedback publicly… has any questions… whatever, then please do contact me. Love to you all!**

**Fading Addiction Part Twenty Two**

We'd been sitting together, just talking, for hours on end. Not all of it was the bad stuff, we laughed too. Somehow, this made it all seem a little better. Discussing everything from movies to fashion, it was nice to talk about something other than painful memories and thoughts; even if it were only for a short time. I knew it wouldn't be long until the topic of conversation was once again full of tension and hurt, but for the moment, I just enjoyed the break from it all.

"You know... it's nearly midnight," Cuddy stated.

"Really?" I was surprised that I'd managed to lose track of time so easily. "I guess I should be going then." Though I didn't particularly want to leave her, at the same time I didn't want to outstay my welcome.

Cuddy hesitated, briefly. "You don't have to."

I frowned, making direct eye contact with her. "You mean I... is that a good idea?" I couldn't quite bring myself to say the words, and instead, hoped she'd know what I was getting at.

"Just stay," She whispered. "I don't expect anything, I just want you here."

Although I had my doubts, I found myself nodding my head. It wasn't that I didn't want to spend more time with Cuddy, but more that I was apprehensive about screwing up or getting myself into an awkward situation.

"You sure?" She asked, making sure I was ok with it. "You don't have to, I can run you home now if you'd like."

"No... it's fine," I said, doing my best to sound adamant.

Cuddy smiled. "Ok then, let's go up." Taking hold of my hand, she helped me up from the couch, and led me out to the hallway and up the stairs. "I've got some baggy t-shirts upstairs, you ok to sleep in one of those?"

Immediately I was panicked, something which must have shown in my face as Cuddy asked, "What's wrong?"

"You think I'm too fat to wear normal t-shirts don't you?" By now we'd reached the top of the stairs, and letting go of Cuddy's hand, I grasped her wrists and turned her to face me.

"What?" She looked shocked. "No, don't be ridiculous! I just thought that a baggy t-shirt would be comfier for you."

Swallowing hard, I struggled to believe her.

When I remained silent she added, "You're not fat Allison; you're the complete opposite. We've talked about this, discussed this. Who are you going to trust? Me, who's been here for you in every way I can be, or anorexia, your destroyer?"

Willing myself to calm down, I let go of the grip I had on her wrists. She was right; it was just my mind playing tricks on me. "I'm sorry," I said sheepishly. "You're right... I'm just being stupid."

"You're not," She insisted, wrapping me up into a comforting hug. "Moments like this are to be expected, and I'm not going to hold it against you. Ok, baby?"

Feeling my heart jolt as she called me baby, I held onto her tightly. "Thank you," I whispered against her skin. "Thank you for just… being here."

"You don't need to thank me; I want to be there for you," she insisted adamantly. "Come on."

As I walked through the entrance to her bedroom, I felt the familiar feeling of my heart fluttering. For once though it wasn't due to hunger or sickness, but because I was racked with nerves at the thought of being alone with Cuddy for an entire night. I wanted to be here more than anything, but at the same time worried that something would go wrong, as it always seemed to. These thoughts became increasingly worse as Cuddy left me to change alone; obviously under the impression I would feel more comfortable without her there. For this, I was appreciative.

As I pulled the t-shirt over my head, I couldn't help but allow my fingers to trace alone my bony ribcage, feeling guilty when a rush of relief flooded through me. I knew it was stupid to expect miracles, reacting with disgust as a normal person would, but I was still disappointed in myself. Trying to think positively, I figured that the fact I was aware of this meant that I was making progress. All I had to do now was work on my feelings, work on my reactions, and hope for the best. If I could just learn to focus on the good in life, then things may just be ok after all.

Minutes later Cuddy came back into the room, placing a kiss on my cheek before she climbed into bed. I followed, climbing underneath the plush duvet and wrapping myself up in a ball, which I'd found to be the most effective way of keeping warm. Flicking the light switch off, she moved closer to me, snuggling next to me. "You're very quiet," she stated, running a finger up and down my neck.

"I just feel weird; that's all," I confessed.

"Is there anything I can do?" I could tell by the tone she was using that she was concerned, yet trying not to show it so that I didn't feel suffocated.

"Talk to me," I said softly.

Cuddy sounded confused. "About what?"

"Anything except me. Tell me about you…" I allowed my voice to trail off.

"Ok… what do you want to know?" She asked.

I paused, wondering whether I should say what I really wanted to know. Despite the fact that Cuddy had asked me many personal questions, I'd asked her hardly any and therefore wasn't used to it. Still, I decided to bite the bullet and go for it, knowing the worst she could do would be to refuse to answer. Psyching myself up I asked gently, "There's no easy way of saying this but… can you really not have children?"

Cuddy didn't reply immediately, and was silent for so long that I thought she was feigning sleep and didn't want to answer. However, she eventually spoke, using the same broken voice as she had back during our confrontation about the issue when in her office. "I had three separate implantations. Two didn't take; one I lost. So to answer your question; probably not."

Somehow wanting to make her feel better, having sensed that this was the one thing she found hard to deal with, I replied, "There's always the chance. Think about it; you got pregnant. Ok, you miscarried but… well lots of women suffer from miscarriages and then go on to have children."

Cuddy laughed wryly. "That doesn't mean I'm going to be one of them."

"There's always hope," I informed her. "And you're no quitter."

"How would you know that?" She asked, and I detected a slight harshness in her voice.

"Because you haven't quit trying to save me." I declared quietly.

Once more, Cuddy didn't speak, and merely leant her head against my arm. Feeling as though I should say something else, I added, "Listen to me. You not having had a child yet; it's not the end of the world. You can get pregnant, and yes, you lost a baby which is a horrible thing to go through but there's still time for you to conceive. And… if you need me to be there for you, then I will be."

"You have enough to be dealing with right now without worrying about me," Cuddy said firmly.

"Don't be silly," I insisted. "It'll make a nice change to think about something other than myself for a change."

Feeling Cuddy smile against my shoulder, I knew that I'd gotten through to her. "Thanks for the pep talk," she said softly.

"Anytime," I whispered, clutching her hands to my body, finally starting to relax. "Goodnight Lisa."

Cuddy leant over, placed a gently kiss on my cheek and whispered back, "Goodnight Allison."

I grinned, feeling more comfortable in her company than ever before. Moving closer to her, I clasped her hands in mine, feeling protected, feeling safe. More importantly, I was somehow hopeful; unlike before. It was still a long journey until I became myself once again; but as long as I had Cuddy there supporting me, then all would be fine. In my heart, I sensed this. Thoughts of counselling, nutritionists, food and eating disorders all faded from my mind as I drifted off to sleep, and instead were replaced by thoughts of the beautiful and amazing woman lying next to me.

Fuck addiction.

Fuck starvation.

Fuck anorexia.

* * *


End file.
